Tacos, Spider-suits and Sex
by Castello
Summary: Deadpool and Spiderman have... an arrangement. One that involves a little sex and a lot of secrets. Peter was content with it, until he finds out that Deadpool's interested in getting to know the kid behind the mask. M for language and sex. LOTS of sex. Sort of graphic sex actually, in many locations and in a fair amount of different positions. Surely NOT for the weak of heart.
1. Chapter 1

It was a simple deal.

The superhero mercenary kind of life didn't leave much room for anything -by any means of the term- regular. Girlfriends were a good way to drive yourself into insanity keeping an identity secret, and could potentially wind up with the need of therapy if you got them killed. It was a dangerous job, not meant for civilians to get caught up in. Peter had sworn that off. That being said, it had become a lonely job. If he'd known, however, that promising to leave relationships out of his life would result in the completely absurd situation he was in now, he might have tried a little harder... but the past is the past.

Deadpool was a mercenary that had a sick fascination with him. Their relationship had started out as estranged acquaintances, to awkward friends, then Deadpool mindlessly flirting with him and his "gorgeous ass". That had spiraled out into an interesting pass time, throwing tantalizing banter at one another atop roofs in the middle of the night. Deadpool would show up randomly sometimes and ambush Peter while he was on patrols, kick starting some outrageous flirtation which could end up in.. interesting situations.

That was fine, for a while. Then it got a little more out of hand.

Now, Peter was in the Merc's old, shabby apartment, up against the peeling wall with Deadpool fucking him into next year.

They were, in a sense, companions. They kept masks on whenever they were together, agreeing to keep identities and real life separate. Hell, Deadpool kept his entire suit on most of the time, only rolling down the tops of his spandex pants and the bottom of his mask for the necessities. It wasn't a relationship. More of a deal. A simple deal that rode off loneliness with some damn good sex.

...but it wasn't a relationship.

Peter was sitting on the corner of a new building, enjoying the fresh vantage point it provided for watching the bank across the street. The material of it wasn't old enough to rust, and the owners had paid extra for some top notch heating that seeped through to a point where it was vaguely warm where he sat. It was a nice change form the old buildings that looked over dead-beat back alleys.

"How's it swingin' web head?"

Peter cocked his head to an angle so that he could see the intruder. Deadpool stood a few feet behind him, waking his way to the ledge with a plastic bag that advertised a taco joint on it's front. "Soft or hard?"

"Excuse me?"

"Tacos." He chuckled, plopping down beside peter and holding out the bag, "The state of your dick isn't something I need to ask about."

"Shut up." Peter huffed, reached in and pulled one out at random, peeling the wrapper away before pulling the rim of his mask over his mouth, ready to take a bite, "What's your sick fascination with tacos about?"

"They're only the second most delicious food in the universe."

"And the first?"

Deadpool brought up his own mask and grinned, "Chimichangas, of course."

"Aren't they the same thing?" Peter questioned, taking another bite.

"Blasphemy!"

"Blasphemy?"

"Of the highest order!" Deadpool screeched, reaching over to pluck the half-eaten taco out of Peter's hand, "Give this back."

"Hey! I was eating that!"

"You don't deserve such beauty..." the merc muttered, stuffing the taco into his mouth shortly after.

Peter shook his head, "You're ridiculous."

"I'm _amazing_."

"Amazingly ridiculous."

"Ehh..." Deadpool shrugged, "I'll take it."

They babbled back and forth a little longer before Peter took action and stole another taco from the bag, deciding not to bother hiding his hunger. Deadpool nearly tackled him, trying to get it back. "Hey! These are for true believers only!"

"I believe in whatever you want me to as long as I get something to eat." Peter laughed, pushing at Deadpool's chest while holding the taco over his head and away from the grabby arms of the merc. "You stole the one I was eating!"

Deadpool drew back in a pout and crossed his arms. "I want compensation then."

"What do you want?"

He grinned deviously behind his mask, "A lap dance."

Peter let out a huffed laugh, starting to hand back the taco, "Not worth it."

"Then how about a kiss?"

"Keep the taco. I'll eat later."

Deadpool didn't take the taco back, just leaned a little further into Peter's personal space. "How about I_ give_ you the taco, and you let me kiss you anyway?"

Peter grinned, "I require two tacos."

"Done."

There wasn't any time to take a victorious bite before Deadpool pushed forward, connecting their lips subtly at first, reaching a hand up to cup Peter's cheek as the boy's taco-filled hand resigned absently to his lap. Slow movements started to get a little more bold as the mercenary left Peter's lips and licked beneath his jaw, taking notice of the way he'd started to breathe a little heavier. He bit the skin that wasn't covered by the neck of his spider-suit.

His actions were stopped suddenly when Peter put a hand on his chest, "Deadpool..." he muttered, a little breathless.

"What?"

"I, uh... dropped my taco..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Look away children, here comes the smut.**

**Also, I do not own these characters or the stories/games/comics they originate from. I just like hot man-sex. These two are my outlet. **

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During his _interesting_ relationship with the mercenary, Peter had found himself in a large variety of sexual encounter spots. They'd done it in Deadpool's apartment, up against the brick wall of an alley, in the restroom of a Taco Bell, _and_ a McDonalds. They'd wrecked the back seats of a car, dry humped in an elevator, and Spidey, despite his disgruntled opinion, had been jerked off on the other side of a dumpster.

A rooftop would be a new location to add to the list, which was surprising really, considering both of their occupations.

Their position had shifted, the merc. hovering over the spider with a wandering hand and a mouth all too attached to his neck. Peter gripped at the fabric of Deadpool's costume and whined when teeth bit down a little too hard into his skin. "Careful..." he huffed, too worked up and concentrated on the finger snaking up under the torso section of his outfit to really be upset.

"Afraid of a little bite spidey-babe?" he grinned, pulling the fabric up to Peter's neck and dipping down to nibble on a little pink nub.

Peter whimpered and gripped Deadpool's mask tightly, holding his head with one hand while the other stifled his own lewd moans. He bit into his knuckle as Deadpool licked at his nipples, and softened the sharpness of his teeth with his lips as he worked with them. One hand keeping the shirt up, another snaking down his side, Deadpool made quick work of the spider-costume, pushing everything unnecessary, and frankly _in the way_, off of the boy's skin. He continued to lap at his chest as the wandering hand that had pulled Peter's pants down to his knees came back up to prod at Peter's mouth. Deadpool's gloves were off, and his mask inched up just above his nose, and that was probably as naked as he was going to get. Peter willingly took the man's fingers into his mouth, and licked and sucked like it was his life's mission when Wade's mouth became occupied with _other_ things.

Peter thought he would cry out when Deadpool's lips circled around the head, free fingers clinging to the base. Peter knew why the mercenary didn't remove his mask. He'd been through some sort of traumatic experience that left his skin scarred and broken. He didn't want to be seen. Peter didn't mind, and in fact, it was almost kinky not knowing the face of the masked-man he'd been going at it with. Besides that, the accident had absolutely_ ruined_ Deadpool's gag reflex.

And _god_ was that hot.

Peter whined when the fingers that had been occupying his mouth slipped away and out of reach, leaving him vulnerable to whining when Deadpool worked all the right places. He gasped when the man plunged deep, Peter's dick hitting the back of his reflex-less throat. Fingers laced his entrance, wet with his saliva and eager to spread him open. With a twist, a wet pop, and a sudden movement of muscles, Peter had two fingers inside of him and Deadpool was biting possessive marks into his inner thigh.

"Ungh..." Peter gaped, trying to stifle the moans his body was dying to let out.

Deadpool snorted, "I swear, every time we do this, it takes less time to finger fuck you open."

Peter groaned and pushed down on the mercenary's fingers, overtaken by surprise when a third slipped in surprisingly easy. Dirty talk always did the strangest things to him... His little ring of muscle slowly loosened and welcomed Deadpool in, sucking him further in with the promise of a tight, wet heat. Peter heard him groan predatorily and continue to bite into his legs, licking the places he bit soothingly afterward.

"Am..." Peter huffed, "Am I gonna find.. _ankh_.. bite marks later?"

Deadpool lifted his head, withdrawing his fingers in an agonizing circular motion, and watching as Peter writhed and wriggled beneath him, "You'd better."

The spider costume got in the way of any chance to nestle between Peter's open legs, so he opted to lift and push them into his chest, ankles in the air. Thanks to the whole superhero habit, he was actually _very_ flexible, and had pleasantly surprised Deadpool many times by using it to his advantage in bed. They were probably the only pair in the world who could have sex on any wall of a house, and that included the ceiling.

Deadpool held his legs tightly and eased in, pulling Peter closer by his hips, and pushing his chest against the material in the middle of Peter's legs to keep them down. Not that he wasn't a very creative person in general, but when it came to sex, Deadpool was freakin' Picasso. The suit, shucked down to Peter's knees, held down by Deadpool's body, and effectively keeping both of Peter's legs in place in the process. He let his forehead rest against Peter's and set a brutal pace, snapping his hips back and forth, pounding into him with uncalculated force.

Peter let out silent screams and even audible ones to a point, thankful of the street noise to drown them out. Otherwise, he was sure they'd wake up half of the city with their loud, lustrous moans and groans. "D-dead-pool" Peter cried, reaching up to wrap his arms around the merc's neck and trying his best to speak with the hard fuck he was getting. He whined and begged for more, to which Deadpool was only too happy to comply.

"Spidey..." he replied, attaching his lips to Peter's as he pulled through his last few thrusts, coming hard and fast into the spider. He kept going though, if anything, quicker now and muting the climaxing screams from the boy beneath him.

They huffed and gasped, Deadpool let himself fall over Peter, becoming nothing but dead weight, too lazy to be anything but. He took a minute to catch this breath before Peter knocked at the man's shoulders lightly, "Deadpool..." he groaned, "my legs are starting to hurt."

"Sorry." he mumbled, not actually making any move to roll off of him.

"Get off me then." he grumbled.

Deadpool grunted in feeble protest, but finally agreed to pull back when Peter started pushing at his shoulders with a little more force. When he withdrew, he took his dick with him, sliding out of Peter and leaving a slippery trail of still-warm semen. "This is gonna be fun to go home with..." he complained, rolling onto his side but not bothering to pull his pants back up, too raw to even think about it.

The mercenary chuckled and smacked his ass playfully, "My place is always open. I just got some Eggo waffles too. I make a mean microwaved breakfast."

Peter paused, "I never stayed the night before."

"I know." Deadpool grinned, readjusting himself and pulling his mask back down over his chin, "Imagine the morning sex!"

Peter shook his head but chuckled regardless, "You think it's a good idea?"

With a shrug, "We'll just keep our masks on. No big deal. You can use my shower if you want, though it'd be a shame to just waste perfectly good sperm." he cupped a hand over Peter's ass, earning a slightly pained groan, "What about a butt plug?"

"Oh god..." Peter groaned, "I'll just go home."

"No, wait! Stay over. No butt plug required."

He hesitated, but eventually agreed when he realized his legs hurt, and swinging home required some movement his lower half just wasn't ready for yet. Why do that when he could just order the mercenary to drag him around? And honestly, who could turn down free Eggos?


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow. This story got some love pretty fast. Impressed. You perverts. ;) **

* * *

Deadpool's apartment was the very _definition_ of filthy. To start with the kitchen, what _should_ be one of the most clean rooms in a home, was over-run with rotted food and disgusting molds that stained the floorboards a sickly green color. There was no silverware, plastic or otherwise, just a microwave, a busted stove, and a fridge filled with beer and a quarter of a pizza. One tattered armchair and a small table supporting a tiny TV was all the furniture that made up the front room. Peter cringed when he heard a crunch underfoot, lifting his leg to find a smashed cockroach beneath it. Never before had he felt like taking such a long shower.

"This place is disgusting!" he cried, trying to wipe the bug's insides off his foot and onto the floor.

"My home, sweet home." Deadpool replied, happily plonking himself down sideways in the armchair and tossing his hands behind his head.

Peter was ready to leave when a burning pain hit him in the ass. Guess that was out of the question. He could always just ring a cab. Except he looked like Spiderman... and Deadpool would no doubt follow him home. The spider suit was in no way a subtle way to travel. He was stuck. "Make yourself at home!" Deadpool offered cheerily, pulling a remote out of a couch cushion and slamming the on button.

"Can I just use the shower?"

"Next to the kitchen."

Peter nodded and maneuvered his way around what looked to be the start of a pizza box castle._ God this guy was weird_. Sometimes Peter wondered why he was even attracted to him, then he'd remember that they _weren't_ a thing. He'd remember that they were both in it for the orgasms. It was casual. He'd never have to worry about bringing Deadpool home to meet Aunt May, or god forbid introduce him to any friends he planned on keeping after college. They were just two guys who hooked up every now and then.

He found the bathroom, depressed to find it in no better shape than the rest of the apartment. Thankfully, the shower looked hardly used, which suddenly made Peter wonder when Deadpool took showers. He flipped the water switch and discarded his clothes, folding them into a neat pile and placing them on the counter, mask gently laid over the top. He found one solitary bottle of soap and once again wondered why the hell he was sleeping with someone like Deadpool. He'd only just gotten wet when the curtain parted and two muscular arms wrapped around his torso from behind. He squealed and pushed back, crouching down and hiding his face in his legs, arms over his head, "Deadpool! What the hell! I don't have my mask on!"

"Oh! Right." He felt a fabric being pulled over his head and sighed in relief, until he actually took a whiff of the mask on his head. It _wasn't_ his.

He stood up and turned, about to yell at the mercenary again when he realized the man was naked. Fully naked. _Completely_ naked. He didn't have his suit, or his mask on, and just stood there with a half-assed smile and a proud erection. Peter had never seen under his costume. He stood silent for a moment, just staring.

His skin was over-run with craters, cracks and healing burns. He didn't have hair. Like, at all. Eyebrows be damned. But the feature that greedily stole all of Peter's attention, wasn't his skin, or complexion, but his eyes.

They spoke in volumes, a sad glint in the rim. It sort of confused Peter. Deadpool was this outrageous, all over the place, lunatic, but his _eyes,_ his eyes made him look so damn_ tired_. He didn't seem like Deadpool. His continued to let his gaze roam over the man's body until he found Deadpool's hard-on, suddenly overly aware of his own nakedness. "You shouldn't just barge in on someone's shower." he stated, voice dropping lower than before.

"Sorry. Just realized it would be smarter if we showered together. You know, save water, save the earth, all that."

Peter huffed and turned his back, finding the showerhead again and putting his head under, suddenly realizing the difficulties of trying to wash his hair with a mask on, "That sounds like a petty excuse."

"Yeah, well," the mercenary's arms found their way around Peter's torso again, and he snuggled his chin into Peter's shoulder, "I was suddenly imagining you in a shower. And shower sex. Shower sex sounds like fun."

"We literally _just_ did it Deadpool." Peter retorted, "I still have semen in my ass."

"I thought about that too." Deadpool continued, "We could use it as lube! Saving time _and_ it doesn't let all my precious, unborn babies go to waste."

"That's gross."

"_Science_!" Wade declared.

Peter shook his head, "You're not going to give up on this very easily, are you?"

Deadpool grinned and bit down gently on Peter's shoulder, "Nah uh."

One of the hands holding Peter slipped down his chest, following the trail of water to his groin and slipping around the base in fluid movement. Peter let out a gasp when Deadpool grabbed him, squeezing the base in a rough second, and lightly slipping up the shaft only a moment later. He groaned, and tried to think about getting _clean_. His entire reason for taking a shower in the first place was about to be thrown out the door.

And damn it all if he wasn't _totally_ okay with that.

Deadpool's chest collided with Peter's back, and he could feel the bumps and scars on the other man's brittle shell. It surprised him how much he actually enjoyed the contrast of their skin. It brushed and rubbed against him like a strange form of massage, and he relaxed. The only place to lean was backward, his masked head falling against Deadpool's shoulder as the merc. bit into his neck, the hand not busy fondling his junk, reaching up to pull the mask over Peter's chin.

"Ya' know, you wearing my mask is kinda hot."

Peter whined when Deadpool's boner nudged his ass, some of the sperm from earlier finding its way back onto Deadpool's dick as it began to slowly leak out, the pressure prodding at the rim. He couldn't lie, having someone's sperm leaking out of your ass wasn't exactly the most pleasant feeling, but Deadpool made up for it in the way he moved. The heat from the shower water made his body ignite even quicker than usual. He was already flushed and heaving by the time the movement really picked up. Deadpool kept Peter tight against him, patiently bucking forward and into the crevice of Peter's ass and unabashedly letting out guttural grunts and groans. He reached an arm around to touch Deadpool's face, tracing the crater in his cheek.

Sure, he didn't look like a supermodel, but Deadpool didn't look as horrifying as he seemed to believe. In fact, Peter was finding strange pleasure in the different texture, and the way the man's bumpy skin collided with his own. It felt oddly- not even oddly- good. It was wonderful, and he was suddenly wondering why they hadn't explored this before. Especially when Deadpool rolled his whole body forward, grinding against Peter and jerking him off just the way he knew Peter liked. This was their relationship, they were cheek to cheek in a shower, buck naked, and still didn't know one another's real name. Yet... when Peter looked up at Deadpool's expression, it felt a little different. Usually they didn't see each other's face.

When Peter ground himself back against the mercenary, he could see the man's features change. He could watch the carnal look in his eyes that came out when he realized Peter was on board with having shower sex. A breathy chuckle extracted when the man lit up, his efforts suddenly more determined. It was different to see his face, but not for the reasons you'd think it would be. It was assuring and arousing.

He liked it.

He liked it a lot.

Deadpool turned them around, the hot water cascading down his shoulder blades as Peter braced himself against the back wall of the shower. He groaned when his legs were kicked apart as far as the shower allowed, back dipped so his ass stuck up just a little more. "Since we fucked on the roof, I can just go in, right..." Deadpool _stated_ rather than asked.

Peter whined and nodded, already feeling the mercenary's head prodding against his hole. He entered in what might have been the slickest entrance they'd ever had. Forget the finger fucking and endless foreplay, he wasn't wasting any time. Gripping Peter roughly by the hips, Deadpool began to thrust in and out at a brutal pace, only stopping every now and then to readjust his position or to lean forward and leave hickeys on Peter's back. It was so good, every touch and thrust made him moan like a whore. He suddenly wanted to see Deadpool's face, what he looked like when he was fucking Peter, and what expression he had when he came...

New things Peter wanted to experiment with. See if he could get Deadpool to make different faces, maybe.

Peter pushed himself off the wall and reached behind to grab onto Deadpool even as he continued to pound into the boy. Having sex while standing straight proved to create an entirely different angle when he entered, and Peter let out one of _the most_ girlish screams he'd ever made when Deadpool's dick scratched a spot in his walls _just_ right. He came in a blinding wave and hazily turned his head back as best he could to watch Deadpool cum too.

Deadpool's eyes were clamped shut, and his nude brow furrowed. Peter noticed the way Deadpool would grind his teeth or bite his lip as he gave a set of final, hard, arrhythmic thrusts. They were left in a huffing heap, the water, growing steadily colder, slipping down their bodies along with fresh sperm. Deadpool let his head fall against Peter's shoulder, heaving out praise, "That... was so hot..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Aww! You guys and your lovely comments! It really makes my day. Thanks! :) Ooh! I also did some editing of the last chapter. Nothing big, just fixing up little mistakes and a mispelled word or two. You guys though... I'm all giddy and bashful. ;) I'll keep the ooey-gooey and such to a minimum and let you continue reading right after this important disclaimer. ATTENTION I don't own these characters, or their comic franchises. If I did, this shit would be Canon. Could you imagine _professionally_ _illustrated_ Spideypool? **

**Ahhh~**

* * *

After the incident in the shower, Deadpool had taken to wearing his mask around Peter less and less. He actually seemed oddly comfortable with Peter seeing his real face. Not that it really mattered to him. For Peter, the boy under his costume represented an entirely separate life; one he'd carefully molded and made sacrifices in order to keep indifferent to Spiderman. Peter Parker and Spiderman were two entirely different people. To Deadpool however, his masked-persona and the scarred face beneath were one and the same. In fact, he'd revealed his real name to Peter not too long after their anticipated morning sex the next day.

He'd been mask less yet again, dressed in nothing more than a simple T-shit and jeans while Peter opted to dawn the full uniform. Even if Deadpool was willing to show his face, Spiderman wasn't just yet. His identity still meant everything to him, and if this drive-by-sexing mercenary got ahold of it, there was no telling the consequences. That didn't stop the merc. from happily giving it all to Peter anyhow.

"Wade Wilson." Deadpool had proudly proclaimed while popping Eggos onto a plate.

"Pardon?"

"My name." he clarified, "It's Wade."

Peter frowned, accepting his microwaved breakfast, "Why are you telling me this?"

He shrugged, and pushed the some buttons on the dial, warming up his own blueberry waffles. "Dunno." he replied, "Just felt like it."

"...Because I've seen your face?" Peter asked, trying to sound as casual as he could manage.

"I guess?"

They ate in silence for a while after that. Not necessarily an awkward silence, mind you, but Peter had to keep himself from looking over at Wade as often as he would have liked, resolving to just pass him a few glances now and then. It was a peaceful silence, relaxed and comfortable. The two simply polished off their waffles and proceeded to clean up, even though Deadpool had made his opinion on cleaning rather clear. Maybe the apartment would be in better repair if he just took a moment to do a few dishes now and again.

Peter had just put away his plate when he hummed towards Deadpool sleepily. He hadn't exactly gotten to bed _early_ the night before, and had woken up only to be drained of energy once again. "You have a coffee maker or something?" he questioned, poking around in the cupboards.

"There's a Starbucks down the street, why would I need one?" Deadpool huffed, lounging in his living room chair, about to start flipping through channels.

"Because normal people need coffee, and I don't exactly have a mercenary's allowance."

He smirked, "I have voices in my head. I'm not exactly _normal_, spidey-babe."

"Yeah, I got that." Peter mumbled, passing by the castle of pizza boxes again with a rather amused smirk, "What is this supposed to be anyway?"

Deadpool shifted his head so he could see what Peter was referring to before excitedly jumping from his chair, "My fortress!" he exclaimed, rushing up next to him, "Casa del-Pizza! Ya wanna help me finish it?"

"How old are you?" Peter chuckled, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one foot.

Deadpool clicked his tongue, "Now, now, you ought to know better than to ask a lady her age.~"

"You're no lady." Peter huffed, smirking as he started his way towards Wade's bedroom.

The merc. smirked and came up behind him, wrapping strong arms around his waist and giggling, "Why spidey, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were headed towards my bedroom."

"I am." Peter replied, matter of factly.

Wade put on a flirty voice and raised his eyebrows, "And you call _me_ sex crazy."

"You are. _I'm_ going in there to sleep for a little while longer."

"You want some company?" Deadpool cooed, pulling them close together and pressing his naked cheek against Peter's masked one.

He ran a hand up Peter's torso, holding him gently by the hip and collar bone, effortlessly making the masked-hero melt against him. It felt good to be held. Those rough, tough arms warming him to the core, Wade's whispers in his ear, and gentle bites on his neck. Deadpool always managed to seduce him with moments like this. Even when he wanted nothing more than to sleep, his body fought to stay energized for whatever Wade had planned for it. He groaned, "Depends..."

"On?"

"If I actually get to _sleep_ if you join me."

Wade smirked devilishly, "Depends."

Peter tried to hide the small, amused smile creeping up at the corners of his mouth, "On?"

"If you'll even _want_ to sleep once I'm finished with you."

Peter let out a shudder as the scarred man suddenly bit into his neck, pulling the material of his mask up with his teeth. The mask never got higher than his nose, but left Deadpool with plenty of neck to work with. Once exposed, he began licking up to his earlobe, and giving it similar treatment. He groped, nibbled and sucked over everything he could touch, grinning with triumph when Peter started to give out in his arms. His head swayed to the side, offering Wade more, and his fingers traced over Wade's knuckles as those bumpy hands roamed over his suit. He wanted skin on skin. To feel Deadpool against his naked flesh again. He remembered the euphoric feeling of it all, the differentiating textures, the messaging comfort, and he groaned.

From behind him, Peter heard a faint chuckle. The mercenary's arms dipped behind his knees, and lifted with ease, causing Peter to yelp in surprise before huffing with amusement. Deadpool was carrying him bridal style into the bedroom, mouth still preoccupied with nibbling on his earlobe. "You know I'm not a girl, right?"

"Yes, web-head. I've seen your dick." he deadpanned, "Plus the lack of grade-A boobies."

Peter tittered at the man's antics, coming back to questioning why he carried on with such a guy. This insane, child-like man. Of course he _knew_. It was for the mind blowing sex. It was because he could always count on Deadpool showing up when he was horny. It was actually almost creepy how just often he managed to show up _just_ as Peter was thinking about him. Maybe Deadpool was actually a stalker.

His accusations were put to a pause when he was dumped onto Deadpool's bed, suddenly thankful he'd insisted on changing the dirty sheets after their (rather messy) morning sex. Deadpool practically ripped his shirt over his head, and crawled over the mattress, looming over the hero and smirking down with sinful eyes. Peter wasted no time sitting up and stripping off the top half of his suit while Wade shimmied the bottom half down his legs, laughing out loud, "Why SPIDEY, going commando? And here I always thought you were such a good boy."

He huffed, "What was the point if you were just going to take them off anyway?"

"Oooh, I love it when you talk dirty." Wade praised, laying over the boy and looping scarred arms under his back. He continued on Peter's neck, reaching the points he knew made Peter moan and biting down hard, but not enough to break skin.

Spidey wasn't into the blood play, not that they hadn't experimented. Wade was into it all. As long as sex was somewhere in the mix, he might proudly pounding into a three cheese slice of lasagna. A loud gasp left his lips as Peter fisted the sheets behind his head, legs curling up, instinctively wanting to wrap around the mercenary's hips. A shiver ran down his spine when those dastardly lips shifted from his neck to his chest, drawing a perky bud in between his lips and pressing around it roughly.

Sex with Spiderman was the best though. The way the (obviously younger) boy would writhe and squirm in his hold, or when he tried to think of something witty to say, but it always came out as incoherent mumbles and groans. It was so hot. He pulled his hands out from behind the spider's back, quickly working at unbuttoning his jeans as he listened to him whine. He bit just a _little_ harder on his nipple.

Peter groaned loudly and complained, "Hurry it up..."

"Impatient spidey?" Wade smirked, finally managing to get the zipper down.

"Yes." he deadpanned, "Please..."

Hearing him beg was too much, Wade didn't even bother slipping out of his pants before pushing into that luscious ass. It was a little hard without any proper preparation, but it went in nevertheless. It was probably thanks to all the sex they'd been having recently. Four times within a 24 hour span was surely some kind of record... But he was so damn _tight_, and moaning as if he was in heat. Deadpool suddenly lost thought of anything else. All that mattered at that moment was pounding him into next year.

He started slow, kissing under the boy's jaw and groaning into the shell of his ear, but as the speed of his thrusts began to quicken, his movements became bolder. He slipped his arms under spidey's back, gripping him by the shoulders and clamping his teeth over the boy's collar bone in time to hear him damn near scream.

As Peter wrapped his arms tightly around the scarred man's neck, he tried to focus on the feeling of that skin. The rough muscles scratching against him, grazing his nipples and massaging his leaking erection. He was so over stimulated, that with Deadpool's rough, possessive bite on his skin, he started crying, "D-Dead-pool!"

"_Wade_!" the mercenary ordered, "Say my name!"

Peter's nails dug into Wade's back as the merc thrust roughly into him, slamming into that wonderful little patch of his insides over and over, "Ahn!~ Wade!"

"Damn it! Wed-head!" Wade cursed.

And then it was over. Deadpool gave a final thrust, and came hard right against Peter's prostate, sending the boy into ultimate bliss as he himself, shot sticky webs all over their chests. Wade let his head rest against Peter as they tried to catch their breath. "I need it..." Wade huffed.

Peter hummed lazily, running a hand over Deadpool's bald head, "Mmm... what?"

"Your name." he replied, "I need it."

Peter opened his eyes then, staring down at Wade as he remained motionless, just breathing heavily. "Why?"

"I want to say it." he answered, "I want to call for you when I cum."

"Jesus, Wade." he huffed , slinging an arm over his eyes, "You can't just _say_ things like that."

"I can if they work."

Peter groaned, pulling his arm away and trying to look at Wade's face, maybe get a read on the situation. He wanted Peter's name so he'd have something to say when they had sex. That was... grossly sweet for an insane mercenary. "I dunno." he offered, dropping his hand from Wade's head.

Wade hummed and pressed his face further into Peter's chest, "I get it."

"Wade..."

The mercenary pushed away casually, rolling off the bed and standing, in his full nakedness, "I'm gonna take a shower. We smell like sex." he announced, leaving with not so much as a glance Peter's way.

When the door shut, Peter cursed and slammed a fist into the mattress, "_Damn_ it, Deadpool."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you Head Games for pointing out some mistakes in the last few chapters. They've been edited a bit in case anyone was curious. Sadly, I don't have a beta for this story, nor do I really have the time to get one. Work, people, _life_ it's easier to just post a chapter once I'm done writing it. (not that I don't try to fix mistakes as I see them) **

**I'm so happy this story is really getting a lot of love! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and compliments. Keep in mind I don't own the characters or their worlds, etc. etc. I just write the sex. :P **

**P.S. As I'm writing this, we just hit 69 favorites. (Except by the time I'm publishing this its 80 Jeez guys.) Hehe~ Think we could someday hit 69 comments? That would complete my world. And my lust for sexual innuendo. :P **

* * *

Peter was sexed-out. His legs ached while the muscles in his lower back snapped at him, cursing Peter for doing so many strenuious activities. They'd been having a _lot_ of sex lately. It wasn't his fault his body just sort of... gave in when Deadpool started touching him. With a wince of discomfort, he finished pulling his spider-suit back on before letting out a rather frustrated groan. Wade hadn't even bothered to come back to the room, even as Peter sat there, waiting impatiently. The shower was still running when he finally decided to be on his way. It was fairly obvious Deadpool didn't plan on coming out until Peter was gone. It was the only logical explanation for the man to have a nearly _half hour_ shower.

Deadpool wasn't exactly renowned for his personal hygiene.

The mid-day traffic proved pretty hard to ignore. As the citizens roamed around New York, simply going about their day, he swung his way home, eager to get back and into a clean change of clothes, maybe get some good sleep. His hips tinged with pain when he took an especially sharp turn around a building. It caused him to hesitate. The next sling of web was a few seconds too late, his acceleration faltering and his balance suddenly thrown for a loop. All of his practice was thrown out the door as he started to fall, barely catching himself just before hitting the concrete.

Peter cursed Wade under his breath as he stopped a moment, pulling away from the streets and into an alley for the sake of a little privacy as he rubbed at his hips. The muscles had already been sore, but trying to catch himself mid-fall wasn't exactly great for the pain either.

He let himself lean against the brick wall of a building, taking calming breaths as the pain became just a little more bearable. Maybe he should take a break for a while. Hang up the spider-suit for the day, just sleep in and when he woke up, he could spend the day with Aunt May. She'd like that. Lord knows New York wouldn't exactly _miss_ him if he just took a little vacation. As Peter, he could take the subway home and not have to worry about swinging right into a building. He'd only just decided to go find his day-clothes when a body dropped in front of him.

But Peter will _never_ admit to squealing like he did.

"Problem Spidey-babe?" Deadpool exclaimed rather gleefully from where he lay, sprawled out on the concrete.

"What the hell!?" He cursed, mentally biting his lip. Heroes weren't supposed to curse.

Even as he fought himself, an entire train-line of profanity ran through his head as he took in Deadpool's broken body. An arm was bent the wrong way, his side split almost completely through, and his head was backwards. That was always and alarming sight. There was so much blood! Peter was about to call for an ambulance when Deadpool chuckled, "Ahh, don't worry bout this. I didn't really stick the landing." His arm twisted (creepily) back into place and Peter visibly startled, "No biggie! I've got a kick ass healing factor!"

Peter tried not to gag as Wade's body seemed to pull itself back together. He had never really bothered to look into Deadpool's masked crusader life. He never thought to check what powers he did, or didn't have. He knew Deadpool was a mercenary. That was about it. This was freaking new and scary. "You- you just?"

"Healing factor sweetums!"

"Don't call me sweetums." Peter ordered, finally recoiling now that Deadpool seemed perfectly fine, standing upright even, "What are you doing here?"

The mercenary chuckled, cracking his neck, "You disappeared. I was trying to make sure you weren't kidnapped by flying monkeys or something."

"Flying monkeys? Really?" Peter smirked, feeling his sense of humor slowly return.

"Well, once I realized a monkey couldn't possibly have carried _you _away I decided to follow-"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean!?"

Deadpool grinned cheekily, "It means you've sucked the blood from one too many flies, Spidey. But don't worry! I like a little junk in the trunk."

"Are you calling me fat?" Peter glared, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one foot.

"Maybe I am." He retorted, the amusement evident in his voice.

"I'm not-!" Peter started to charge on him, but a sharp punch of pain hit him in his hips, kicking him down to his knees as he lost all coordination in his legs.

Deadpool tsked, crouching down and holding a hand under the spider's arm, "I thought so."

"I'm fine." Peter muttered, trying to push Deadpool away, even as he began helping him to his feet. "I can stand on my own, Wade!"

The masked merc. let out a little puff of a chuckle before releasing him and taking a step back. "That's mah name, don't wear it out!" he smirked, reclining against one of the alley walls, "Now how about I put you in a jar and take you home? I can start my own bug collection!"

"That's not really all that funny." Peter scoffed, rubbing his hip even as he insisted on being fine.

"Yeah, well, I don't feel like bein' too funny today. That, and the Author's tired as balls and barely managed to come up with any jokes for this chapter." His vice raised a pitch, "But back to script! We obviously fucked too hard! Your precious butt needs a break!"

Peter coughed uncomfortably for a moment, choking on air. Deadpool was still blunt as ever. And insane as ever. He spoke like he was reading from a playwright or one of those stories lonely ladies at home write about their favorite characters. Fan fiction? What a weird guy. "I'm fine. Seriously."

"Isn't that what girls say when they're really berserk out of their skulls?" He pushed, pretending to look at his nails even though his hands were covered by gloves.

"I don't think that's how you use that word." Peter huffed.

"Oh, you know what I mean, Mr. smarts-a-lot."

"That doesn't even-"

"Look. You gonna let me take you home or not?"

Peter sighed. Deadpool had stood up from where he'd been leaning, but Peter took to resting against his own alley wall now, like they'd switched off. He was tired. His body hurt, and all he wanted to do was get home and just _relax_. However, there was the issue of his identity. If he let himself be ushered home, that meant giving up his home. He couldn't very well let Deadpool see where he lived, imagine the weird things he'd do with that knowledge. There was a possibility of his Aunt May finding a crazy mercenary staking out on her lawn. "No thanks." he uttered, suddenly convinced.

"Spidey, I swear to god I will forcibly drag you there. Or I'll carry you bridal style through the streets. All of New York will know that Spiderman is the woman."

"Screw you." Peter snapped.

"We already discussed you being too fucked out to go home, I don't think another round will do your ass any good."

"Look, Wade, my_ home_ is my _identity_. If I let you know where it is, I can't have you just showing up whenever, okay?"

Deadpool was silent for a moment, "Was that a yes?"

"I-! ...Umm..."

"If I don't show up unannounced, I can bring you home right?"

"You're insufferable!"

"You're fucking me."

"Damn it! Alright! Just take me home."

The smile on Deadpool's face was massive, big enough to be clearly seen behind the mask. He fist pumped into the air, then swung into action, grabbing Peter and slinging him onto his back. Now, he was no web-slinger, but he had some pretty awesome toys just delivered, and he was _really _eager to try them out. "Hold on Spidey-babe!" he called, pulling a grappling hood out of his belt and aiming for the top of the building. It clamped with a loud clink and away they went, "Weeeee!"

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes and simply settled back against Deadpool as he maneuvered over buildings. He held tightly onto his back and just enjoyed being cared for. It was nice. Even coming from a clearly disturbed mercenary.


	6. Chapter 6

**As always, you guys never fail to leave the best reviews! Thank you for loving my little smutty ficlet. I didn't really have time to go through and self-edit this one, so any mistakes you see, I'd be very appreciative if you'd point them out. :) **

**I don't own anything, save for the plot (what little there is). If they were mine, marvel would no longer be kid friendly. ;)**

* * *

He really hadn't thought this through.

Peter was still clinging tightly onto Wade's back, weaving between buildings as Deadpool shamelessly tried to reenact Spiderman's web-slinging with two little guns. Not that his grappling skills were bad, they were pretty good in fact. It just seemed pretty commandeering to the out-of-commission Spiderman hanging off his shoulders. Wade giddily shouted and shrieked as they swung forward, Peter barking out directions every now and then. "Left!" he shouted, holding on a little tighter as they made a sharp turn, grazing up against another building, "Be careful!"

"Learn to think faster!" Deadpool retorted, going right back into a fit of whooping and hollering. "Yahoo!"

Peter couldn't help smiling. Wade was fooling around, purposefully missing a few turns just so he could do a full circle around a skyscraper. There was one point where he flat out stopped shooting forward, scaring the crap out of Peter as he used gravity to hurl them to the top of a roof. He caught himself perfectly, momentum carrying him forward into a sprint before jumping right off the opposite end, still screaming like a kid.

It was outrageous.

But Peter was having fun. "Take another right!" he called out, pointing.

"You got it!"

He watched diligently as Deadpool shot a grappling hook high and went stiff, trying to turn. "Use your legs!" Peter ordered, squeezing his thighs against Deadpool sides, "Your wrist should be held by your knee!"

Wade cackled before doing the complete opposite, and almost crashing them into another building. Frustrated, Peter reached out and grabbed one of Deadpool's wrists, forcing it down a few inches. His leg came up, the arm stretched straight, and he made a beautiful turn around the Daily Bugle. He smirked, proud of his handy work. "Oooh!" Wade awed, "Did you see what I did?!"

"How old are you?" Peter chuckled, pulling his arm back to it's original position just under Wade's. He was holding firmly onto the fabric of his suit, hands right over the man's chest and legs circled around his waist. He felt like a spider. Which of course, was pretty fitting. He grinned, "Can you do it again?"

The merc. crowed again and made a sudden swing, taking them off course, but showing off his swinging skills. A smile crept across Peter's lips and Deadpool worked, moving rather in sync with each shoot of rope, "Good job, Wade!"

Deadpool's body suddenly became less loose and free under his hold. Peter thought for a moment he might have said something wrong, but that changed when Deadpool made a second loop. He seemed more focused, using out of character precision to swing the next left, and landing yet another perfect turn. Peter felt proud. Which was stupid because it was just a grappling technique. He wasn't teaching him anything significant, really.

"Good job." he said again, a little softer.

Wade's body relaxed a little, as the swinging became a little more lazy, "I like hearing you say that."

Peter's heart sped up a few beats, and he wanted to kick himself. He might have actually done so, if he wasn't relying on them to keep him attached to Wade. He shouldn't be that happy over a few stupid words. God he was really in deep. He was letting someone from his super hero life take him home after all... Which... really was stupid of him. There was no way Wade wouldn't remember his house. Wade would probably see him mask-less too. It wasn't as if he could just enter the front door of his house with a Spiderman mask on. He'd have to change into street clothes.

The longer he thought, the more he regretted agreeing to this. "Hey! Wake up snoozles! The taxi driver needs directions!" Deadpool shouted.

"You know what..." Peter mumbled into his shoulder, "This wasn't a good idea."

"What?" Wade called back, the city sounds sort of drowning out Peter's soft words.

"I said, I don't think this was a good idea!" he repeated, louder than he really wanted to.

"Awe c'mon spidey-babe!" He whined, throwing his head back with an frustrated groan, "Don't back out now!"

Peter frowned, "Deadpool, I just don't... I don't think..."

"Speak up! I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome this is!"

"Stop swinging for a minute!" He finally yelled, irritated.

They settled on a roof. Deadpool shrugged Peter off his shoulders before stuffing the grappling guns into some holsters at his sides. He turned, crossed his arms, and waited for a conversation. Peter didn't want to do this again, honestly. "Look..." he started, "We're almost there. If you let me off about a block from here I can walk the rest of the way."

"Or you could let mama safely tuck you into bed with a bedtime story." Wade retorted, raising his hands to the left cheek and pretending to rest against them. "I make a mean glass of warm milk!"

"You're disturbed. Do you know that?"

Wade shrugged, "So I've heard." He took a few steps closer and draped an arm over Spiderman's shoulder, "Look web-head, I was promised a tour of the spider web. You really gonna leave a guy hanging like that? No pun intended."

Peter frowned behind his mask, "What if I compensate?"

"Ohh I do like deals! What's behind door number two?"

Peter shook his head, but smiled none the less, "If I give you my name, will you just bring me part of the way?"

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain." Deadpool replied, crossing his arms for a moment before scratching his head as if he were really thinking about it. "Deal!"

He stuck his hand out, like they were going to shake hands, but as Peter went to reach for it, Deadpool recoiled, "On second thought," he started, "Let's kiss on it! That's a bit more official than a stupid handshake."

"Fine." Peter huffed, starting to roll up the bottom of his mask.

"So, who's the famous web slinger?" Deadpool giggled, doing to same with his own.

"My name's Peter." he replied.

Before he could say much more, Deadpool had planted their 'official' kiss over his lips. It was a hard kiss, but it didn't go any deeper than the slow movement of their mouths together. He pulled back a moment later, smiling wide, "Mmmmn Peter." He practically moaned the words out, licking his lips like he enjoyed the taste of the boy's name in his mouth.

It was a weird noise honestly, but one that went almost straight to Peter's dick nevertheless. Peter wanted to kick himself. Did he seriously just get turned on when Deadpool said his name? God, he was so screwed. "Wade." he snapped, pulling the man back into another, much longer kiss. When they pulled apart this time, he spoke in a commanding tone, "I changed my mind. Fuck me on the roof, _then_ drop me off."

"Ohh~" the mercenary cooed, instantly coiling his fingers around Peter's hips, "Your wish is my command."

Peter felt the man push and pull at his suit as Peter did the same to him. It wasn't slow or sweet, no foreplay whatsoever, just two masked heroes ripping the clothes off one another. "Say my name again?" Peter asked, straddling the merc. where he sat on his knees.

He stared up at Peter with a smug grin, "_Peter_~" He groaned out.

Peter bit his lip. He ordered Deadpool to keep his eyes trained on him, hands flat on the roof. No touching. After a bemused expression from his partner, Peter let his head fall back, his own fingers tracing the outline of his hole. He purposefully made a noise when he pushed the first in, feeling around best he could. He didn't like the angle, and honestly it was a little difficult to get as deep as he wanted to, but he persevered, adding a second digit to the mix.

"Jesus that's hot." Deadpool groaned, reaching his hand out to give Peter some help only to smacked away.

"Don't touch." he demanded, "Just watch."

He lifted himself up and down on his fingers, pushing himself down enough o just barely graze over Deadpool's erection. Wade's name purposefully fell from his lips as he added a third, spreading and moving around in a lewd fashion. He wanted to get Deadpool riled up. It wasn't fair for him to be the only one feeling weird about it. He was not going to be the only one begging for it. Peter breathed heavily and dropped his face on Wade's shoulder, "Do you want to put it in?"

"Yes. Yes. Hell-fucking-yes!"

With a discerning smirk, Peter pulled himself back up, "No."

"Oohh Petey, you're playing a _dan_gerous game here."

He hit his prostate and let out a shriek of pleasure, leaning back and trying to keep that angle. Deadpool started to become restless underneath him. He squirmed a bit, tried sitting on his hands, but only ended up trying to hump the air. "Damn it!" he cursed, "Get over here and_ ride me_! _I_ wanna make you scream like that!"

Wade practically ripped Peter's hand away, scooting him closer by his ass and forcing him down. It was sudden, and filled the need Peter had. It felt so good. He wrapped his arms around Wade's neck and hid his face in the man's shoulder, softly cursing his name. Over and over, up and down, faster and faster, until they were a rutting mess against one another. Peter felt an immense wave of pleasure wash over him as Wade struck his prostate. He came hard over Deadpool's chest, chanting his name until he did too, launching inside of Peter.

They sat there a moment, catching their breath. "Damn spidey, you sure know how to make a guy horny."

"You started it." he grumbled back, lifting himself up and looking for his suit.

"I did that?" Wade questioned, voice raising a pitch, "wait... what did I do?"

"Nothing." Peter offered, smirking to himself when Wade almost tripped over his own legs in his rush to stand up.

"What did I do?! How do I make you do that again? What happened!?"

He looked so desperate for an answer that Peter almost took pity on him. _Almost_. Peter felt powerful, and didn't quite want to give up his advantage over the merc. just yet. Wade was a bad influence, "Nothing at all, _Wade_." He emphasized his name, offering a tiny hint, but nothing more.

He stepped into his suit, and got ready to leave without another word. "But Peeetey!" he whined, fumbling with his suit in desperation to keep up. "I wanna knooowwwww!"

"Come on. I've got to get home."

"You, sweet cheeks, are a tease."

"And you're insanely audacious."

"Gesundheit."


	7. Chapter 7

**Not much plot development here, but it's cute and fluffy. That kind of a writing day. **

**Not my characters, I just use their bodies against their will. Well, actually they love it. In my head anyway... SIGH Oh great comic writers, please make my perverted fantasies canon. xoxox.**

* * *

Peter was _not_ in love.

In fact, that should be the farthest word from what he was. He was something, surely. Infatuated, curious, intrigued, _something_. Not in love though, most definitely not in love. It didn't matter that he spent most of the next several nights lying awake, thinking about Wade. It didn't matter that he almost changed the course he was swinging when he thought he saw the man. It didn't even matter that he actually paused at a gun store. Spiderman didn't do guns, but he'd had his mind on Wade the whole time. It really didn't matter though, because Peter was _not_ in love.

"You totally love me."

_God damn it._

They were sitting in Wade's apartment, a half empty bag of Taco Bell resting beside Wade's armchair. A movie played idly in the background while the two ate, Peter sitting sideways in Deadpool's lap. He almost choked on his taco when Wade had said it. "W-what? No I don't! Were the hell did that come from?"

Wade simply shrugged and took another giant bite of his burrito, some of the meat spewing out as he talked, "Dumno. Think'n."

Peter wanted to make a joke about it, but his brain decided to take a detour, cycling through all the possible reasons Deadpool could be onto him. Did he let his eyes linger too long? Had he let it slip at some time? What? no. Of course he hadn't. Peter couldn't have let anything slip because he_ definitely_ did _not_ love Deadpool. Superheroes don't fall in love with mercenaries. It was a violation of every moral rights code he had. Make a joke Peter. Make it a joke. Laugh it off. "Thinking is dangerous." he tried.

"But my brain holds the key to awesome power!" Deadpool announced proudly, flexing an arm in a show of strength.

"It's entirely nonsense."

"_You're_ entirely non scents!"

Peter rolled his eyes, snapping right back, "You're ridiculous."

"And you love me for it."

"Stop saying that!"

He went to stand, but a strong pair of arms wrapped around his torso, keeping him seated. He could definitely fight it, and he probably should, but Peter (too quickly) realized just how perfectly okay he was with being held in place by Wade. God, he had it so bad. "Let go of me." he ordered halfheartedly.

"Nope."

"Wade."

"_Peetey~_" he retorted, smirking when he was given a warning glare.

Wade had been really abusive of his newfound power lately. Once he'd realized what he had the potential of doing by saying Peter's name, he did it often. Too often to be fair. Curse Peter's groin and it's infatuation with hearing his name said that way. At least, when Deadpool _growled_ it out. It was really stupid, but he loved it.

"Say it Petey. You love me."

"Shut up, Wade." he bit back, sharply, "Let me go."

"Say you love me and you're free to sling as many webs at poor, innocent bank robbers as you wish. Unless you wanna put that thing to good use. I bet it would be reeeeally easy to steal a diamond or something with that. Or you could go into dress making. I think you'd make a lot more money selling Spiderman-brand clothes. How_ do_ you even make money anyway? Superheroes don't get jack. You should definitely make clothes. You've got the product, now you just need a catchy slogan. Ooh!~ Fifty different shades of silk! Oh wait... isn't that a porn?"

"Deadpool," Peter groaned, struggling with the man's arms, "Stop talking."

"But you like my voice." he smirked, rubbing his cheek against Peter's like a kid would with a stuffed animal.

He was getting a little irritated with Wade now. He flicked his wrist back, effectively spraying a small patch of webbing over his mouth with a satisfied smirk. Wade didn't make a move to remove it though, just continued speaking in mumbles against it, like nothing had changed at all. "Jeez, Wade, just let me get up."

The un-masked mercenary let out muffled laughter under his gag, and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at the spider in his lap. "MM MmMm M!" he tried.

Peter let his head fall back with a grumble of irritation, giving in and peeling the webbing off his face. "What?"

"Just admit it!" he repeated, beaming smile tickling his features.

"No."

"So, you do, but you just won't say it out loud? That's cruel Petey~."

"My name's Peter." he argued, feeling himself twitch with interest every time Deadpool purposefully said his name, "Stop saying it that way."

"What way?" He asked, innocently.

"You know what way." he huffed, deciding to play dirty and pinch Wade's arm.

He flinched and squeaked, "Ouch!"

"Let me go."

"Nuh-uh. If it's a pinching war you want, then it's a pinching war you'll get!"

Peter was about to retort when one of Wade's hands slipped away and planted a sharp pinch on his ass, moving right back to keeping him in place once the deed was done. "Ow! Stop that!"

"Sayy it. Sayy it. Sayy it." Wade chanted, bouncing a little in his seat like an excited little kid. He pinched Peter's ass again.

"Cut it out!" he barked, slamming back against Deadpool's chest in a childish form of frustration, trying to crush him against the sofa.

Deadpool let out a little squeal, "Oooh!~ Full body now, huh _Petey_?" Then, to Peter's dread, he jerked forward, hips first, grinding up against Peter's sore, pinched backside. He let out a sharp gasp, and then a frustrated grunt when the motion was repeated.

"Trying to seduce me won't get me to admit to anything." Peter mumbled, leaning back against Wade regardless, not necessarily giving in, but surrendering the idea of leaving.

Deadpool smirked, "What if I just like having hot spidey-sex?"

"Then you're picking a wrong time to be aroused."

"Says the guy sporting a chubby."

Peter huffed, "I am not, and you're vulgar."

"_No_, I'm Wade." the mercenary teased, "We covered this already, Petey."

"I'm _really_ starting to regret telling you my name."

Deadpool scoffed half heartedly, and shifted, releasing his relentless grip around Peter's hips and gently tapping his side, a signal to stand. Confused at Wade's casual change of heart regarding sex, he did so. "Don't regret anything in life, sweet cheeks! Want some pizza? I've got six more boxes to go through before I have _any_ chance of completing Casa le Deadpool."

Peter smiled lightly with amusement, cocking his head over at said structure. The little fortress of stacked up pizza boxes had only made a little progress since he last saw it. It was a goofy gesture, and completely Deadpool. He crossed his arms smugly, "I thought it was called 'Casa del-Pizza'? When did that change?"

"Uh, like two seconds ago. Get with the program baby-boy. Creator's glory. I plan to erect a g_rrrr_and statue in front of it, dedicated to the one and only, super sexy Crimson Comedian!" he announced, fanning his arms out and rolling his R's with a _slight_ ghost of an accent hiding in there.

"Cute." Peter snarked, "You make that one up yourself?"

Deadpool brought his hands to his hips, leaning towards Peter and giving him some sassy lip of his own, "For your information, that's an original alias from my comic books. The writer wanted some references in here to see if anybody actually reads em', or if they're just here for the hot, mask on mask thing we got going."

Shaking his head, Peter turned towards the kitchen, pretending to ignore everything Wade was saying, "There you go again."

"Just because you don't share my _amazing_ ability to talk with the audience doesn't mean you have to make any pouty faces."

"I'm not making faces." Peter grumbled, stepping over an odd pile of plates on the floor by the counter. "Did you even bother to clean after I left?"

"Why would I waste time doing something like _that_?" he scoffed, trodding in right behind Peter, a big grin on his naked face.

They were dressed casually actually. Wade in a branded pair of Deadpool sweat pants, and Peter in his street clothes, the mask still secure over his face. Given, it did feel a little weird to be wearing the mask with his regular clothes, but he'd been too tired to bother slipping back into the tight-fitting suit. His T-shirt was a bit more lax, and the jeans provided more warmth than his spandex lower half.

He let out a heavy sigh after pulling two cups from Wade's cupboard and detoured a few steps to pick the plated up and off the floor. "You don't do it because you know I will, don't you?"

Wade shrugged, pushing up on the ends of the counter and seating himself happily beside the sink while Peter plonked the dishes into it. "You do make a perfect little housewife. Can you cook? I bet you can. I bet you're like Gordon Ramsay and that dude from Cake Boss. I bet you can make fancy things like salmon." Wade's eyes widened a little, "Oh my god, will you make me expensive foods!?"

"First of all, shut up." Peter huffed, returning to the two cups he'd brought out and filling them with some of the coke leftover in Wade's fridge, "I can cook, but nothing extravagant. I also don't have the money to go out and buy expensive ingredients just because you're feeling whimsical."

Wade nodded with defeat, kicking a leg out like a little kid. "I bet Gordon Ramsay would cook yummy things for me."

Peter snorted, offering Wade a cheap, red cup before shoving the soda bottle back into the fridge, "Well, I'm not Gordon Ramsey."

"You're right. He's old. You're my baby-boy!"

"I feel like your nicknames are starting to borderline on pedophilia..."

"You could be the Justin Bieber to my Michael Jackson!"

"Okay... that's just gross."

Deadpool shuddered, "Yeah, even _I_ found that distasteful."

Peter smirked, slotting himself between Deadpool's legs as he sat up on the counter, "Stop with the nasty jokes, and I might think about cooking for you." he hummed, taking a sip of his drink.

"Deal!" Wade agreed, pulling a greasy slice of pepperoni from the box on the surface beside him, "I'm getting tired of pizza anyway."

Peter nodded approvingly, setting his cup down, "Well, in the meantime, we haven't had sex in like... five days."

"Last one to the bedroom is in charge of clean-up!" Wade hollered, jumping around Peter and making a mad dash for the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**No beta for this story still, and my writing suffers when I'm tired, so if you spot mistakes please do point them out. It helps me oh so much. **

**(SOME SERIOUS REVISIONS WERE DONE AS OF 2/9/16!)**

**I don't own these characters or their origins. I just like writing lovely gay smut. (*_*)/**

* * *

Peter held tightly onto Wade's shoulders, an oddly intimate moment for the two of them. Even though they had sex a lot, this somehow felt different. Deadpool hadn't sprouted any kind of irritating, lusty innuendo or inappropriate comments like he normally did. In fact, he'd been usually quiet, simply holding tightly onto Peter as he was seated in Wade's lap, arms thrown around his neck as Wade kept them in a slow, steady rhythm. His own, scarred limbs were tangled around Peter tenderly, keeping him grounded, and letting him float at the same time. It was all conducted in such a loving way, that it made Peter wonder if maybe he was up to something. It was entirely _too_ sensitive for Deadpool.

But he was in no way complaining.

Peter wanted to whine when Wade's mouth laid gentle kisses on his shoulders, pecking leisurely up towards his neck, and onto his cheek. A content sigh fell from his lips as their lazy movements dragged on, neither moving to make it any quicker or harder. It was so_ passionately_ soft. And Peter loved every second of it. The cool drag of it all, the amorous hum that rumbled in Wade's chest, and vibrated against him. So utterly intimate...

"Wade..." he muttered, turning his head so that he wasn't the only one being peppered with kisses.

He nipped lightly, casually sweeping his hands along the man's back and groaning when Wade offered him a special, more amped up thrust for his efforts. It didn't summon any need to change their relaxing pace however. Peter wanted that again, the lazy thrusts and sensual kisses.

His mask still shielded the top half of his face, but the rest of him was entirely exposed. Body, chin, lips, heart. He felt every bit of Wade's scarred skin brush against his own, the gentle massaging feeling he had come to love just magnifying how tender the entire affair was. It was so different from all the sex they had been having up until now. Rooftops, back alleys, against the wall, even other times on the bed, none of it had ever been this intimate before. It made Peter wonder what had changed. Nothing he knew of really... nothing extravagantly different had happened.

Wade's hips thrust up in a soft flux as he buried his face in the juncture of Peter's neck, crooning in a muffled mess, "Petey..." he mumbled, almost hesitantly, "I..."

Peter hummed in understanding, taking it as a sign that Wade was going to cum. He nodded softly, trying to form some kind of sexy urging, but he just felt so connected, dirty talk didn't seem fitting. Not for whatever it was they were doing right now. So he simply leaned closer to Wade's ear, whining softly before whispering, "Go ahead, cum."

A small growl left the man beneath him, seemingly as a gesture of appreciation for his words, but he shook his head determinedly. Wade pulled them apart slightly, but never changing his soft rhythm, connecting them over and over again, "No." he spoke, a small, uncharacteristically pleading noise leaving him, "No, Petey, I-"

A loud, impeding knock came from the bedroom door then, interrupting them without a second thought. There was no room for a reply before the door was casually swung open, and someone stepped inside. Privacy be damned.

Peter let out a surprised shriek, moving to pull his mask over the bottom half of his face instinctively. Within seconds, the bed sheet was thrown over Peter's head, Deadpool pulling him tightly into his chest and hiding him from whoever had just entered the room. The thought of someone coming in, and possibly assuming Wade was screwing a ghost came to his head. Maybe Wade would appreciate the joke, but he pushed away his growing need to chuckle when Deadpool spoke, voice laced with irritation, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

The obscene change in Deadpool's voice made Peter shiver. His pitch had dropped a few octaves, becoming dangerous and feral sounding. It was a warning pattern of speech that made Peter tingle in an uncomfortable way. He felt Deadpool's grip over him tighten as footsteps behind them grew closer.

"Work." the intruder offered, nonchalantly, "Who's your friend?"

"None of your damn business, that's who."

Peter shut his eyes tightly, whoever the hell this was, obviously knew Deadpool, and from the sound of things, Wade must really not like him. That alone was enough to make Peter at least hesitant. He kept himself buried in Wade's grip as their conversation continued, "I don't have my mask on." Wade grunted, "You should have called."

"Relax. I've seen you without your mask before." _What? _This guy knew Wade. _Wade_, not Deadpool. Or at least, Deadpool trusted him enough to let this guy see his real face. That was... well, of course. There were probably plenty of people that had seen Wade's face. It was silly to believe Peter would be the only one. "And I did try calling. You didn't answer."

"Then you should have waited, asshole!"

"Couldn't." The man retorted, calmly, like Deadpool hadn't just yelled insults at him, "Got a job for you. One that needs to get done tonight."

With an irritable growl, Wade shifted beneath him, looking for the alarm clock, "What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Deadline?"

"Eleven-thirty at the latest."

Wade snorted, "I couldn't get the Cinderella bedtime, huh? Do I have a fucking name at least?"

The second half of the conversation hesitated before replying, "Harold Lewis."

Peter was growing steadily uncomfortable. He'd never been caught in the middle of Deadpool's work like this before. As a vigilante, he'd tried to avoid coming into contact with it. Wade normally kept the mercenary side of his life out of conversation, probably for Peter's sake. Now, here he was, (literally)stuck between Deadpool and his work, hiding himself from the other person in the room, and forced to quietly ingest the planning of an assassination. It made him feel a little sick. Every moral fiver in his body was telling him to intervene, make a move or something, _anything_. But all he did was shift restlessly.

"Your friend's getting jumpy."

Wade's grip around him tightened defensively, "Yeah. We were kinda in the middle of something, jackass."

"Not my fault. You didn't answer. How was I supposed to know you had a hooker over? You normally pick up your phone, even in the midst of sex."

Peter was starting to like this man less and less. When Wade snapped at him, it did make him feel a _little_ bit better, hearing Wade blatantly introduce him as "Not a fucking hooker."

The man seemed skeptical though, scoffing without reservation, "You gonna take care of it then?"

Tension in Wade's body became suddenly thick. Peter could feel it. He felt him jolt, heard him take a shaky inhale, and winced when that impossibly tight grip only became even more constricting. Would he do the job? "No." Peter felt himself lax, knowing Wade had just turned him down. But when he returned with, "It won't be an issue. I'll have it done before eleven." well... now he was confused.

No, yes? Was the job not the problem?

The stranger grunted, lingering within the room only another small moment before turning to leave. Peter exhaled with relief as he heard the door shut. Finally. He felt safer now. He pushed out of Wade's grip, frowning up at him as he let the sheet drop away from him. Of course, Wade couldn't see his face now that it was covered by the mask again, but the disdain in his voice should have been clear, "You're going to do a job?"

"Yeah."

"_Now_?"

"I have until eleven-thirty." he replied, dryly.

Peter wanted to push away. He didn't like this at all. It wasn't right. Sure, he didn't really have any place to tell Deadpool otherwise, but as a responsible citizen, it was his job to make sure the city was safe. Including whoever this target was. "I thought you told him no."

"I did."

"Then why are you doing the job?"

Wade huffed, pushing his face forward to rest against Peter's collar bone despite the boy's protests, "You heard the deal go down." he muttered, "You became an accessory to the fact. He wanted me to take care of it."

Peter's spider sense went off in an alarming flail of an instant,**_ danger_**,**_ danger_**,**_ danger_**, "You- He... wanted you to kill me."

"Calm your tits, I said no. I'm not gonna do it."

Peter still struggled. How was he supposed to believe that? How was he supposed to believe that a mercenary, no matter how many times they had fucked, would have any reservations over hurting him? Believing that a fuck buddy meant more than good pay would make him naive.

They_ weren't_ in a relationship, there were no deals struck, there were no feelings... at least... not on Wade's end. It was just sex. Sex didn't mean commitment of any kind, and this was a man who killed for a living. Deadpool was as dedicated to the mercenary part of his life as Spiderman was to being a hero. There was no way he could ever beat that kind of competition. Lifestyle trumped a fuck buddy on any game board.

He could just as easily be lying to Peter, hoping to get an easy kill without much of a fight. Was he just supposed to lie down and take that? He struggled even more now, pushing roughly at Wade's shoulders and trying to evict Wade's dick from his body. He was disgusted with himself, angry at Deadpool, upset with everything, and he just wanted to scream. "You could be lying." he protested, "How do I know you're not going to kill me?"

The mercenary stared back at him, outraged. "Fuck you." Wade snarled, taking the hint and pushing Peter off of him completely.

The change in demeanor threw Peter off, but he kept his defenses up, curling and rolling back so that he landed on his feet, now standing in a defensive stance at the end of the bed. Well, as defensive as one could be after fucking the man you're protecting yourself from only a minute or two earlier. He watched carefully as Wade's expression grew heated. _Peter_ was the one that was upset. Deadpool didn't get to be angry with him, "My spider senses are going crazy." he admitted, "I have every right to be doubtful of your intentions."

"You- you!" Deadpool curled his fingers into exasperated claws, "Don't?- Don't you fucking_ know_!?"

"Know what?!" Peter hissed, taking a cautionary step backwards as Wade jumped off the bed in an angry heap.

Rage seemed to be boiling out of every pour in Deadpool's scarred face. Not the same kind that was resurrected by anything sinister, but a hurt, pained form of anger. He cursed and ripped the blanket from the bed, throwing it onto the floor with a slew of profanity. "Why the fuck don't you trust me?" he shouted accusingly, "I mean yeah, I get that you've got fucking identity issues, but-! I mean, c'mon!"

Wade was practically screaming. He pulled the lamp from the bedside table, hurling it across the room until it smashed against the wall, the pieces scattering around the floor, by their naked feet. "Jesus Wade," Peter shrieked, "calm down!"

"Don't fucking tell me what to feel!" he started to near the boy, still obviously upset, and Peter was going to have none of it.

It didn't matter that they had sex. His muscles were on hiatus, and his brain had become hyperactive. He was prepared to go into a battle.

"Don't take another step closer!" he warned, ready to attack if he needed to, though he prayed it wouldn't come to that.

Deadpool screeched to a stop, nearly tripping over his own feet with how quickly he cut the breaks. His eyes widened as he realized Peter was ready to fight, taking in his stance, no doubt alerting his own instincts. His eyes flashed with hurt, before morphing into a solid glare. He directed his rage at the boy, fists clenched at his sides. Deep inhales of breath, and shaky exhales followed. Wade almost looked like he was fighting himself. He shook his head, his voice much softer, but almost broken as he spoke, "Fuck you, Peter."

Wade didn't wait for any kind of reply, just scoffed and turned away. The conversation was over. He stalked towards the bedroom door without another word, ready to stomp out of the room. But he paused at the door, not for long -only a moment- but he did in fact hesitate, glaring back over his shoulder, "Get your shit together and get out of my apartment."

"W-Wade?" Peter tried, confused.

He_ wasn't_ being attacked. He wasn't going to be killed. His senses had subsided their haste to get him to move. Any worry in his mind now dissipated. With the threat gone, he regained the ability to realize he was being kicked out. Wade wasn't going to hurt him, but he was pissed off. Why would be he so pissed if he wasn't planning to... "Wade?" he asked again, stepping forward cautiously.

"I said get the fuck out."


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the delay folks, we had a huge storm and the power was knocked out for about a week. It was insane, and scary, and so. freaking. cold. Now that it's back however, here's an especially long update to celebrate. With some fluff, and action, and Wade doing a bad, bad thing.**

**Once again, it's late. I just got my power back and all I want to do is sleep in my heated room. I haven't done as much reviewing as I should do, so if you catch a mistake _please_ point it out so I can fix it. :) **

**I don't own these characters, I just play in their sandbox.**

* * *

Six months. That's how long their charade had lasted; six, speedy, sexually _greedy_ months. That was longer than most relationships had lasted in his life, and he and Wade hadn't even really... _been_ anything. Just a quick pick-me-up when one or the other felt the need. Sure they ate together sometimes, but they needed to eat anyway. It just seemed like the logical thing to do. Eat, gain energy, drain it all with amazing sex, then eat again. The fact that Peter sometimes stayed over was irrelevant. After sex they were tired, it was just convenient.

It was an _arrangement_, not a relationship. Still... having Deadpool be there when he needed it had been...

But he needed to snap out of it now. After swinging home begrudgingly that night, Peter had stayed awake until well after that eleven thirty deadline. He spent his time tossing and turning, wondering if Wade had gone through with it, if he'd gone to kill that man. Of course, it was rather presumptuous of him to assume otherwise. Deadpool had made it clear he was going to do it, and it wasn't as if he wouldn't just because it upset Peter. In fact, he'd kicked Peter out.

They hadn't spoken since.

Three and a half days really shouldn't have been Peter's breaking point. he started to pity himself, moping around Aunt May's house in a gloomy slum. He ate a bit less, but enough. He wasn't depressed, just upset. That was normal. He'd lost a good outlet. Sex.

Never mind that he'd grown comfortable there. That wasn't the point. He'd started to miss what it was like being there, though. The thought of not being there to see Wade's finished pizza castle upset him, and he missed the low background scent of Mexican food that seemed to seep from the walls of that place. He started to miss having his own designated mug, because Wade only had two, and he'd insisted that no one touched his Captain America branded one. He remembered the small chip in his mug, and the way it gave a stark contrast to the rest of the mug's rim whenever he went to take a drink. It was the little, weird things he was starting to miss, and he almost wanted to swear off actually drinking from mugs at all.

His bed seemed too big. The room seemed to well decorated, and his own bathroom made him feel like he was some sort of 'clean freak'. He'd actually humored himself with what Deadpool's reaction would be if he saw Peter's house, and just how long it would take him to dirty it up.

He missed it all, and he missed wade. Only three and a half days living with the idea of never having contact with him again was what made Peter accept it. He... more than liked Wade. The 'L' word wasn't on the table yet. He refused to acknowledge that it was the perfect word to describe how he felt about the man.

"Damn it." Peter groaned, plopping down on the top corner of a skyscraper, cradling his face in his palms, and trying to get his head straight again. He'd been obsessing over this for too long. He wasn't some lovesick teenager, he could get over it.

Work. He needed a distraction right now.

"Somebody help me!"

Perfect.

Peter tuned his ears towards the alley he'd heard the scream coming from. A man's scream, probably an older gentlemen. He shot his hand out quickly, and made his way closer, peering out over the edge to assess the situation.

Like he'd thought, it was a man, dressed in a dark suit, back pressed against the end of the alley, sputtering pleas for his life at whoever was cornering him. A man in a disguise, at least, covered enough that Peter couldn't see him. Long black coat, a hat that covered his face, and not nearly enough light from the moon or streetlamps to really give Peter much else.

"P-p-please." the man blubbered, holding his hands out in front of him, "I was just trying to get a foot up, I swear! I was gonna give the money back!"

His words did nothing the stop his attacker from slowly inching forward, but as Peter dropped down behind the second man the victim continued to try, "W-whatever he's paying you I'll double! Please, you don't have to kill me. I'm a _very_ important man."

"You don't have to kill anyone anyway, actually." Peter interrupted, gracefully landing behind the cloaked pursuer, "Hey. Friendly neighborhood spider, here to play middle man." he crossed his arms nonchalantly as the man in the suit gaped at him, "What seems to be the problem here gentlemen?"

"Oh, Spiderman! Thank god! This man is insane!"

"Oh shut up you old fart. The little guys in my head got nothin' to do with this." Peter froze up, alarmed as the man in the coat turned to the side, keeping both men in view, "Hey, hey, hey Spidey! Fancy seeing you around here. I've just gotta take care of this guy then I promise you'll have my full attention."

"Deadpool?! What the hell are you doing?" Peter squeaked, dropping his arms and staring.

Wade was in full costume, with the hat and the coat covering his black and red spandex. "Job, smooches. This guy here's a theivin' little coward."

"I'm not a coward!" he defended, ironically _while cowering_.

"So you admit you stole the money from your boss? That was the charity fund no less." Deadpool tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment, "Not that he really cared, your boss is a dick too, but really buddy, the _charity_ funds?"

"I told you, I was gonna give it back!"

"Yeah, after you won twice it's worth gambling." came the snarky reply, "And you suck at poker Larry."

"My name's Harry!"

"Whatever you say, Garry."

"_Harry!_" He repeated, with a firmer voice, "Harry, as in Harold!"

Peter frowned, "Harold? Harold Lewis?"

The man in the suit flinched and turned to face Peter, "Y-yeah? You know my name?"

Hell yes he did. Harold Lewis was the name of the target Wade had been given that night, the one Peter played numberless times in his head, subconsciously blaming him for their entire blowup. Not that it was really his fault, but he made a good fall guy. Peter actually donated a minute to debating whether or not to actually save the guy. He cocked his head towards Deadpool, "What happened to the eleven thirty deadline?"

"I was distracted." he grunted, rolling his shoulder and spinning a bit so his entire body faced Harold now.

"You didn't do the job..."

"Yeah, well I'm doin' it now." His arm raised silently, a pistol gripped tightly in his palm.

"Stop!" Peter lurched forward, pulling his arm up so the shot rang through the air. Harold cowered into himself, arms over head as he slumped down to his knees, "Wade!" He tried again, struggling to pull the gun away, "Put it down!"

"Let go of my arm!" Deadpool barked, using his other hand to reach over and pull uselessly at Peter's suit, "Damn it! Let go!"

"No!" Peter kicked him hard in the back, knocking him forward slightly and loosening his grip on the gun.

Wade growled, and spun around, the gun arm straight up beside his head, and Peter up in his face, "You kicked me."

"You were about to shoot a man!"

"Let go!"

"No! Drop the gun!"

"I can't!"

"Yes you can! Just let go of it!"

Wade snarled and pushed back with force, sweeping a leg behind Peter's ankles and knocking him off balance. "Stay down." he ordered, turning back to the balled up man in the corner, "I mean it Petey!"

Peter flinched. That bastard. He'd used his real name in front of a civilian. Deadpool had absolutely no intention of letting this man live, and now made the decision to save him all the more self destructive for Spiderman. Peter balled his hands into fists at his sides, surging up from the ground to grab at Wade's arms again before he could pull that trigger, "Wade! Stop!"

"I told you, I can't."

Whatever small shred of hesitation Peter might have seen, disappeared within the blink of an eye. The shot blasted through the air, forcing Peter to watch as the man he was supposed to save crumbled to the ground, gushing red from a small hole in his head. Peter let out a short, strangled noise, hand to his mouth. Wade spun around quickly, forcing Peter's head into his shoulder and holding him still, "Don't look."

Shaky. That was the proper word for how Peter felt. Trembling in the arms of a killer. He'd always known what Wade did, his being a mercenary wasn't exactly a secret, but _watching_ it happen was an entirely different story. He didn't want to he there. He wanted to go home. He didn't want to think about a man bleeding out on the floor because of the man he'd been sleeping with. Some hero he was.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Wade! I said let me go!"

"Petey, calm down."

"No!" he shrieked, pushing with more strength than before, "I just watched you kill a man!"

He let out a loud sigh, trying to reign the boy back in, "I had to."

"No you didn't!" Peter yelled back, finally managing to pull out of Wade's grasp, and taking a good few steps back, "You _never _have to kill people! You just do it for the money... you never _have_ to kill anybody. So... so-!"

"If I didn't kill him-" Wade muttered, interrupting the start of Peter's babble, and trying to step closer, "If I didn't kill him, then they would have killed _you_."

_What? What the hell kind of excuse was that?_ If someone was threatening him then it was Peter's job to take care of himself, not Wade's. In fact, the situation might even be worse. Knowing that he was the reason Wade had killed someone... That seemed like the biggest kick in the face. Spiderman was an able superhero who could take care of himself. There was no need for Wade to be so selfishly stupid.

"That-" he started, "No one will kill me, Wade. I can take care of myself. I don't need you to... to _kill_ people for my sake! Jesus. What the hell kind of reasoning is that?"

"They know who you are Peter!"

That one made him pause. Knew? Someone knew? Somebody knew his secret identity? "What are you talking about?"

"They fucking know... They know where you live, they know what you look like, they even know your real name. They fucking _know_! Those sick bastards know more than I do about you and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it!" Deadpool was shaking. Not the fearful kind of shake, the kind that's bursting at the seams with unbridled anger, bottled up, "Those bastards know more about you than I do."

Peter watched the man slump against the alley wall, hiding under the stupid hat, his head bowed, "There isn't a damn thing I could have done."

"You could have told me." he spat.

"We weren't exactly talking to each other, sweet cheeks."

With a hefty sigh, Peter crouched in front of him. There were a hundred things he wanted to say right then. He wanted to chew him out, tell him what he'd done was wrong. Spiderman wanted to have him atone for killing a man, and Peter wanted to yell at him for doing it in front of him. His head was a jumbled mess, but even with everything he wanted to say, what came out was different. "That's not by my choice."

Deadpool's head lifted in a sharp second, examining him through the mask, as if trying to read him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Peter groaned and tipped himself over, plopping onto his ass and scooting so that he sat adjacent with Deadpool against the wall, "I don't like not seeing you. That wasn't what I wanted at all." he confessed, "I just didn't want you killing innocent people..."

"He wasn't innocent."

"But he didn't deserve to die in a back alley." Peter barked, subconsciously peering over at the body and shuddering.

He didn't like death. It reminded him too much of his origin, too much of tragedy. No one should like death, really. "I don't want to be here anymore, Wade. I want to go somewhere else. I want to finish building that stupid pizza box castle with you. Take me-..." he started, cutting himself off awkwardly.

"Take you where?"

Peter drew in a breath of courage before trying again, "Take me back home."


	10. Chapter 10

**Well, I went back and did some editing/reviewing in previous chapters. Just cleaned it up a little, mainly. But that's something. By the way, Wade Wilson, commenting on my stories... (=u=) Would totally call ya, accept I'm a firm believer in all things SpideyPool. You cant stop it. ;P Hehe!**

**If you spot a mistake in the chapter, please, please, _please_ let me know. I'll swoop in and correct it the moment I'm made aware. **

**Not my boys, though I do own some of their merchandise... But that's besides the point.**

* * *

_Home is where the heart is._

A corny quote that jostled around in Peter's head as the two made their way to Wade's apartment. There wasn't a word shared between them during the journey, which did semi-concern Peter, but when the wind picked up Wade huffed, and wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder casually. He wasn't to worried about Deadpool not wanting him around. Smirking to himself, he tried to imagine Wade being the kind of guy to give his jacket to his date. He nearly chocked on a snicker when he envisioned Deadpool laying out a coat over a puddle. The idea seemed rather silly. Peter was thankful for the warmth though, only finding it a little difficult to adjust himself so that they walked in sync. Have you ever tried to walk properly with someone's arm around your neck?

Trust Wade to be (semi)chivalrous only when it suited him. He'd noticed Peter trying to fall into step with him and chortled, taking two big strides forward, and destroying any progress he'd made. Peter huffed, elbowing his rib, "Jerk."

"I could always carry you, like the damsel in distress! I'll be your knight in shining spandex!" Deadpool squealed excitedly, "Speaking of which, you ever thought about how stupid a fabric choice that is when it gets cold? I mean, my balls kinda shrivel up in the winter."

"I didn't need to know that." Peter winced, debating pushing Wade's arm away when he took another long step ahead, dragging Peter along.

Silence rested over them like a blanket then, the chills of fall roaming around them as they drew closer to Wade's apartment. The alley still hung over Peter's head like a bad dream, running Wade's words through his head like a broken record. Someone was threatening him. Moreover, threatening Wade _with_ him. It made him nervous to know someone out there knew the identity of Spiderman, and was abusing that knowledge. He'd always feared what might happen. Wondering if he'd get attacked in his sleep, if someone would target his Aunt May, if he'd ever be able to live a regular life once the secret was out. His boss would have a field day printing a story on him, "My Geeky Reporter is Secretly a Vigilante" or something stupid and self-aimed.

But whoever was holding this information over him, they hadn't revealed anything yet, just blackmailed Wade into killing. Which, honestly probably wasn't that difficult of a task. No matter how much Peter would like to think it, Deadpool most likely would keep on killing, no matter his strong moral persuasion. Deadpool liked killing. But that guy in the alley was different. He'd done that for Peter's sake, and that made him feel sick to his stomach. He would almost prefer to be publically outed. He would gladly take the rough headlines.

"Thinking dirty thoughts spidey?" Wade interrupted, smirking on the other side of his mask, "Please, share with the class."

"Huh?" Peter mumbled, jolted from his thoughts, "Uh, no... just thinking."

"Naked old ladies or dead puppies?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

Wade smirked, "You had this sort of disgusted aura about ya. Looked like anime, with those black tentacle thingies oozing out and everything. Sooooo, ya' thinkin' bout' dead puppies or naked old ladies? Cus' those are probably the worst things I can think of."

"Neither." Peter retorted, shuddering, "That's both sad and disgusting. I have an aunt that is- jeez. That's just gross, Wade." He_ did_ knock Wade's arm away this time.

"Fine. No more naked old ladies." Both arms now free, Wade threw them behind his head, linking his fingers together against his neck as they walked. He looked utterly relaxed if not too casual, "What's with the lemon face then?"

"You can't see my face, Wade."

"I have Deadpool senses." he snickered, "Spidey-senses was already trade marked."

"No face. I'm fine."

"So is Emma Watson, but we weren't talking about your scrumptious booty just yet. I mean, it is _fine_. But if that's how you'd like to-"

"Can you not do that right now?"

It wasn't Deadpool's fault really- well, yes, okay it was. He wasn't in the mood for his flirtatious humor, or anything just yet. They were still in the middle of an unresolved fight technically. Deadpool had just killed a man, which, sure, wasn't necessarily a large feat, but that didn't mean it couldn't piss Peter off a bit. Not to mention the mysterious blackmailer-who Peter still knew nothing about-that was using Peter's identity to keep Wade on a leash. Yes. It was Wade's fault. He was not in the mood for any of that. It was time to be professional.

"Do what?"

"The flirting thing."

"I'm just being my every-day, casual, cheery, charismatic, bubbly, fun-loving, self, baby boy."

Peter huffed, crossed his arms and took a couple steps larger than necessary, the two of them no longer walking in step. "So are we just not going to speak about the dead man you left lying in an alley? About what 'evil forces' are after me?"

"Nope."

"We should."

Wade let out a heavy sigh, "No. We shouldn't."

"So we're just going to forget about it?"

"Yup."

Another minute of silence, and Peter was utterly uncomfortable. This was something they should be talking about. You don't just ignore a murdered man that you left bleeding out. In fact, that made Peter no better than Wade really. He'd just wanted to get away... There wasn't anything he could have done for the man. Irritated with himself, he slowed down in pace, now beside Wade again. He nudged the man with his elbow, "You have a phone?"

"Hmm? Yeah, why?"

"I need to use it."

Deadpool cocked his head oddly, but reached into a pouch on his hip nevertheless, tossing it over once he'd pulled it out. It was a flip phone. Peter wanted to chuckle a little. Not that he was necessarily all that advanced when it came to technology, but who used flip phones anymore? "You have a dinosaur in your pocket." he muttered, punching a few buttons and raising it to his ear.

"Its a burner phone." Wade shot back, his mask making a weird little lump near the mouth, telling Peter he was sticking out his tongue.

"Yes hello? There's a dead body in an alley."

"What the hell?" Wade was suddenly grabby, hands shooting out for the phone while Peter turned himself away, dodging with precision.

He gave the 911 operator the address, made up story about being a civilian passing by and hung up before she could ask him for any personal information. Wade grumbled and practically ripped the phone out of Peter's hand. "You're a little shit, you know that? They would have found him eventually." he muffed, "Now you've gone and wasted a perfectly good phone."

Wade dumped it in a city trash and glared over at Peter, who was all too pleased with himself, "You can get another one."

"Fine. But you owe me."

"I don't owe you anything."

"Then how about staying for the night simply because you love me?"

"I was gonna stay anyway." Peter muttered, following Deadpool through the doors of his apartment building with his best impression of annoyance.

* * *

Peter however, refused to have sex that night.

Maybe Deadpool saw nothing wrong with having a casual fuck after heartlessly gunning down a man, but Peter saw it differently. It could have been the conscience that Spiderman had grown, or the that fact that it was a fucking morbid thing to do. Who went out and killed somebody and then thought, "You know what? I'd like to fuck my estranged, superhero, not-quite-boyfriend right now"? It was insane. _Of course_ it was insane. Because this was Deadpool, and_ Deadpool_ was insane.

When Wade's long fingers had started flirting with the waist of Peter's suit, he practically jumped away, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Sex." he replied, like he was discussing the weather, "Duh."

"Yeah, no." Peter frowned, "Why _in the world_ would you think that was a good idea right now?"

Wade shrugged, "You're here, I'm here, we're queer, and sex is nice." he shrugged again, "Seemed fine."

"I'm not queer." Peter grumbled, "It's a stupid word anyway. People only use it if they're being malicious."

"Fine. We're happily dicking each other like bunnies Sunday through Saturday. That better?"

"You're an asshole."

Wade huffed, annoyed before plopping down on his sofa, "Why'd you come here then?"

Peter didn't actually have an answer for that one. At the time, he'd really just wanted to be out of that alley, away from the blood. Sex hadn't been on his mind. Getting somewhere he felt safe had been busy cramming up every corner. He'd never tell Deadpool that he found the man's apartment safe. Who in their right mind found the home of a mercenary safe? Maybe the crazy really was rubbing off. "Pizza fort." he said lamely, blurting out the first thing he saw.

"Casa le Deadpool?" Wade smirked, sitting up and cocking his head to look longingly at his beautiful and unfinished creation.

"Yeah. That. Felt like doing that."

Wade smiled, rolling up his mask and sending Peter an expression that said he knew. Knew that wasn't the reason, but was willing to let it play out anyway. Peter just huffed, and picked up a box off the floor, "Well? Show me where it goes."

"Anything you say sweetums."


	11. Chapter 11

**Well, apologies for the last few sexless chapters. Promise to make it up to you, ;)**

**Not my boys, just moseying around in their universe. I took my rake and just... messed shit up basically. (Revised as of 3/30/16)**

* * *

Peter was ashamed to say that he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a pizza box fortress no more than three feet high.

It had started with a bit of architectural professionalism, of course. Peter's proud sense of doing everything like it was his best was the reason he crawled into that fort, not because he _wanted_ to do it. He merely felt it was his job as a resident of Casa le Deadpool to make sure it was structurally sound. So while Wade was finishing the last few adjustments (because adjacent guarding towers and a little remote controlled sports car to show how rich the king was is somehow completely necessary) Peter had wormed his way inside, just to see if he could fit through without knocking the whole thing down. The fact that he didn't crawl back out after making it inside was completely irrelevant.

Honestly, he blamed his moment of weakness on how comfortable it had been once he'd curled up on the old blanket Wade had spread out inside. The fort wasn't necessarily large, and Peter had to curl his knees into his chest to accommodate his height, but it was still a satisfying amount of space. He could stretch his legs out straight if he really wanted to, making the form of an L with his body.

He watched Wade work through the cracks between the pizza boxes, tiredly. Smirking to himself as Deadpool diligently set up the final details. It gave him an odd sense of domestication really, like they were kids playing together. Because building forts was something only kids did. He felt like alive, playing house, content with himself and his surroundings. So it honestly wasn't his fault that he was comfortable enough to close his eyes. He blamed Wade.

It was a ridiculous notion, but he felt safe in that little cardboard fortress. It wasn't even strong enough to stop the attack of a pissed off kitten, let alone something actually dangerous, but he still felt like it was the place to be. Safe, knowing that Deadpool was the knight just outside, guarding that castle. But maybe that was stupid of him. Feeling secure in Deadpool's line of sight? The guy was a psychopathic mercenary, and Peter was essentially lying down with the wolves by feeling safe there.

But... he didn't want to think about that anymore. That was the entire point in coming here.

He wanted to just ignore the alley, ignore the mysterious threat Deadpool refused to talk about, ignore the mercenary, really. Well, ignore the fact that he was a mercenary, not ignore Wade. At least for a while. Peter wanted Wade_ with_ him right now. He wanted to go back to the frivolous conversations and Taco Bell burritos, the amazing, whenever-the-hell-he-wanted orgasms and the stupid banter they tossed back and forth in between everything else they did. He wanted that happy feeling back. That tight chest and swirling in his gut that made him feel ten pounds lighter. The easiness of it all, that reassuring feeling of having someone _there_ to hold you when days were tough.

He wanted to live safely in Wade's pizza castle.

So yeah, sue him for falling asleep in a cardboard fort.

Processing these thoughts took a bit of a toll on Peter's self image. He started to rouse himself with the notion he was being ridiculous. He should get up and stop daydreaming. Peter wasn't sure how long he'd actually been asleep, but he couldn't hear Wade shifting the cardboard around anymore. He was preparing to crawl out and half-heartedly reprimand Wade for letting him sleep under a pile of pizza boxes, but he was stopped before he could sit up. The weight over his side wasn't exactly heavy, at the most it was lazily constricting, and warm._ Really_ warm. Comfortable fuzzy socks and fireworks kind of warm and- wow being around Deadpool was _really_ taking a toll on the way his brain processed things.

Wade was curled around him, a palm pressed flat over his chest and an arm tucked underneath his head. Honestly it made a rather comfortable pillow. Obviously Wade must have crawled in after him at some point. The arm around his chest tightened possessively and suddenly Peter's thoughts were a jumble.

He should be resisting this, he should be complaining and pushing Deadpool away.

But- if he was going to be truthful, all he wanted right then was for Wade to keep holding him.

The situations surrounding them were so messed up, he'd just wanted to escape. To his happy place. Which some how ended up bringing him to Deadpool's apartment, in a pizza box castle, the mercenary tangled around him in such a soft way he almost didn't believe it was Deadpool. So he kept his mouth shut, eyes closed, and resigned to curling in a little more on himself. Leisurely linking their fingers together at either hand, Peter felt content. For now, he could just give in. For now, he could just let Wade hold him in the safety of their little castle. For now, he could just forget about their issues.

Wade grumbled behind him, breaking Peter's carefully sculpted moment of quiet while nuzzling into the back of Peter's neck.

He smirked, nudging back, "Wade-"

"Shhshhshh.." he muttered, pressing further against Peter, "Don' talk sweetums. You'll ruin the moment."

"Wade."

"Shhhh. Jus' lemme' cuddle you for a bit."

A fond sigh left him then, as he jerked his head back a little so he could bump against Wade's "I was just gonna say we should move to the bed. It's more comfortable."

"I'm comfortable here." he retorted, not giving an inch.

"Bed has pillows and clean- well..._ semi_ clean sheets."

Wade smirked against the fabric of Peter's suit, "If we move to the bed," he huffed, "I will personally make it my life's mission to fuck up those sheets."

"Wade. We're under a fort made of greasy pizza boxes, lying on an old blanket. I still say the bed would be better- Regardless of your grudge against bedding."

He reached a hand back, hoping that maybe some engaging contact would help motivate Wade a little bit. He was startled not to come into contact with the fabric of his mask, but the bumpy contrast of his naked skin. His hand stayed still against Wade's face. He liked being able to feel it, and suddenly wished he'd removed his glove. He felt the tight jerk of Wade's jaw, and then the slow release of tension when Peter reassuringly stroked his cheek with his thumb. Once his shoulders had slumped, Wade practically purred, pressing his nose further into the juncture of Peter's neck.

"Maybe I don' wanna move."

"And maybe I don't want to sleep on a dirty blanket." Peter quipped.

"Touché." Wade replied, "But I still wanna sleep here, and you wanna sleep with me."

Peter huffed, half amusement, half irritation, and pressed back with a tired smile, "I just want to sleep." he muffled his own voice, closing his eyes and softly muttering, "Or not sleep... Just, you know, forget for a while. Like... how we used to act."

Yeah. Just forget for a while, just pretend that everything was okay again. That would make Peter feel better. They should just do that. Pretend that he and Deadpool were back to their pointless banter around mouthfuls of taco. When everything was fun and fancy free. When there was awesome sex lurking around every corner in the strangest locations, positions, occasionally with Deadpool's weird costumes. When they had an _arrangement_. When Peter could still refer to whatever it was that they were as _an arrangement_. Before there were all these feelings, and the need to protect...

When Deadpool would have just killed Peter instead of killing someone _for_ him.

"Well that sounds ultra depressing." Deadpool huffed, knocking Peter out of his thoughts with an irritating harrumph. He raised his voice into a high, mocking pitch, "_"Wade, I just wanna ride you and your massive dick until I can't think of anything but your name"_ Must have been too hard to say."

Peter jabbed him with his elbow, "Shut up before I kick you."

Wade seemed to consider this. But only for a moment. He shrugged, bit into the fabric along the bottom of Peter's mask, and jerked his jaw up, taking the mask with him. Before Peter could reach up and defiantly pull it back down, Wade was on him, nipping at his skin and trailing the hand on his chest downward. A firm hand on Peter's hips, teeth anchored into his neck, and Deadpool was moving. One rather unsubtle thrust at first, like he was testing Peter, getting him interested. The boy jerked forward, but didn't get very far. Deadpool was holding him still.

"You don't have any marks on your neck." Wade pouted, "Been too damn long."

"It's only been four-" Peter's words hiked up into a hitched intake of breath as Wade set out to amend this offence, "-days."

He sucked at the boy's pulse with a smirk, shifting the arm that had been tucked under Peter's head and reaching around his neck. He pulled his glove off by use of his teeth, and spat it out in front of them, using his newly bared fingers to push Peter's mask up a few more inches, nearly uncovering his entire nose. Then the second glove was off, and Peter was starting to really pay attention to everything Wade was doing.

That blissfully misogynistic contrast of skin spiraled up his side as Wade slipped naked fingers under the shirt portion of his suit, the other hand pulling his chin away so that Wade had more room to mark up his neck. Peter was starting to breathe a little harder. Or at the very least, it was easier to hear it with the silence of sex that filled the little pizza box fort.

The sound of sex was something maddening in itself. Or more, the absence of sounds other than sex. Your senses become sharper in moments like these, you listen _closer_, you feel even the slightest of touches ten fold. Like your skin is on fire. Between the tingle of Wade's fingers dancing up a sensitive part of his torso and the invasive sound of him sucking at his neck, Peter never felt more attuned with his senses. He could hear his own (now labored) breathing, and the embarrassing little groan he let out when Wade started to push his hips forward with new purpose.

"I said the bed..." Peter whined, even as Wade's hand wandered up far enough to pinch at his nipple, sending a pleasant jolt through his body, and straight to his dick. He hadn't even realized he was that hard until now.

"Fuck the bed." Wade retorted, begrudgingly pulling his mouth away from Peter's neck, "Wait, no, scratch that. No fucking the bed. I wanna fuck _you_. Right here. Like, _yesterday_."

"_Wade_..."

"I got you baby boy." Deadpool shushed him with a few light kisses over the hickeys now starting to form on his neck, "Don't you worry. Gonna take good care of you."

Peter barely managed to reign back his voice when Wade's wandering hand finally made it's way down, rubbing the bulge in his suit. Peter's hips were moving on their own accord now, rolling in desperation for something more than all the groping. Not that he wasn't grateful, but he was becoming slowly impatient. "_Wade_." he tried again, grinding against the hard on pressed into his backside, hoping to provide some encouragement.

Wade let out a small growl and jerked forward, drawing a startled noise from Peter's throat. "Fuck." he grunted.

Wade was pushing Peter's pants down before he could reply, doing his best with the one available hand he had. There wasn't enough space to maneuver around inside the fort, so Wade might be going in blind. He didn't seem to care though, and demandingly pressed his fingers into Peter's mouth with a short demand to "Suck." There was no way either of them were getting up to find lube, so it was all Peter was going to get.

While Peter sucked like his life depended on it, Wade was doing his best to keep the moment going, pressing his dick against Peter's naked ass and biting hard on his ear._ God_ he loved the noises Peter could make. The little raspy, wet, gasps that could put any girl in a fair fight. He bit at Peter's hairline, sucked over an already fairly purple hickey, and bit into his clothed shoulder, frustrated he couldn't leave marks there too.

Impatiently, his fingers were taken from Peter's mouth. He chuckled appreciatively when Peter whimpered. He spit on his hand once, just to contribute whatever he could, and pushed two fingers in without warning.

_The fucking moan_ he got for his efforts made Deadpool push his groin forward, frustratingly against his own knuckles instead of the sweet curve of Peter's ass. He'd be as quick as possible. Two fingers turned into three, turned into four, until Wade was too impatient to give another fuck about preparation. Peter was practically fucking himself back against the mercenary's fingers and gasping, _begging_ for it. And what kind of gentlemen would Deadpool be to deny his maiden anything?

Ripping his fingers away, Wade slammed in. No moment of hesitation, no slow penetration, just right into a primal mode of fucking.

Peter's moans were staccato now, thumping in time with the hard thrusts Wade gave him. He held Peter tightly, pumping his leaking cock in the same rushed rhythm. He got his mouth on whatever he could, now that there was no room for new hickeys on his neck.

"_God_! Wa-de!"

Wade's name was fairly simple. Only one syllable. But he was fucking _so_ ruthlessly into Peter the kid couldn't even manage that without the hitch in his voice. Weird as it was, the idea he was making it hard for Peter to talk was a rush that went right to his dick, and just encouraged him to go harder. _Faster_.

"Fuck!"

He got Peter to swear too. 10 points for Gryffindor. Dickindoor. Gryffindick? He could work out the pun later. Main point; miracle dick.

At one point he lost his leverage, and when he shifted the hand by Peter's head so that he could better anchor himself, he accidently knocked one of the pizza boxes loose, and the fort came tumbling down around them.

Peter yelled out in surprise, but Wade didn't stop. He grumbled, kicked a few boxes away, and lifted Peter's leg so he could pull the pant leg down off him completely. He hauled that naked leg high and tunneled into him hard as he could, grateful for the better angle, now that he didn't have to worry about knocking down the castle. "Fuck it." He growled, pushing himself up and lifting Peter's leg over his head. He could kiss Peter now, fucking mark the hell out of the other side of his neck, he could push Peter's legs up into his chest and just-

And then he was coming. Hard, and desperate inside of Peter's ass, groaning helplessly. He sucked hard on Peter's shoulder, hoping to spur on his orgasm too. Because Peter liked it when they came together. He didn't stop fucking him though, even as his own orgasm died out, he kept at it until Peter was right there with him, throwing his head back and white-knuckling around a fallen pizza box. Spurt after spurt painted his half-naked chest, and the torso of his costume. Moans during sex were nothing compared to the raspy, desperate keening Peter did when he came.

Wade chased down his breath, propped up on his elbows now, lazily kissing Peter and rumbling happily in his throat.

"We destroyed casa le Deadpool." Peter mumbled, after Wade finally gave up and lay beside him.

"So. Fucking. Worth it."

Dude. Their sex destroyed castles. 100 points for Gryffindick.


	12. Chapter 12

**Roses are red, Violets are blue, I don't own these characters, but neither do you. **

**Hey again Wade. You're stuck in my universe here. Gay sex, limited amounts of boobs, (I mean, unless you wanna count mine. 100% female author by the way) and I have no real intention of changing that. If you're offended, I hear there's an awesome chimichanga joint down the road. ;P**

**So much sweet fluffiness in this chapter. I was feeling nostalgic. Had a nice day with the hubby, felt like these two deserved a little bit a' greatness too. :) Enjoy the sticky sweet gooeyness my friends. (Updates as of 1/19/16)**

* * *

Somewhere between their second and third round, Deadpool had actually managed to drag Peter to the bed. Casa le Deadpool had been completely abandoned for the crumbled failure of a fortress that it was, and the two spent the entire next day just lazing about in bed, taking turns getting food. It was leisurely, apart from that one time when Deadpool carried him into the kitchen, taking him across the room, hands hooked under his legs, fucking him into the air and then against the counter when they got there. He had hand fed Peter some lunch, made him drink, all the while still buried in his ass, and fucked him all the way back to the bed.

Truly, most of it had been lazy rutting and blowjobs, but occasionally one or both of them managed to find a kick of energy and it became something else. Rough, hard and fast. Soft, sweet and slow. Occasionally a mix of both. Sometimes it was needy, sometimes it was as casual as talking about the weather.

One occasion had Peter bashfully blowing one of Deadpool's guns, (checking twice that the safety had been on before doing so) and discovering the mercenary_ might_ actually have a bit of a gun-play kink. Of course, that would be the kind of thing that Deadpool was into.

Peter's backside thrummed with an ache worse than he ever remembered having. Turns out, a steady diet of sex wasn't exactly the best on your joints, physically capable superhuman or not. Not that he didn't feel it when they had done it before, he was accustomed to a little uncomfortable aftermath, the sex was worth it. But used to it or not, he didn't think it had ever been _this_ constant of a feeling... buzzed? in his insides. He was so damn satisfied with himself though that he couldn't really bring himself to care.

He was living in a full day's worth of afterglow, and Peter took a moment of self indulgence and ran his hands back and forth in the sheets. Thoroughly fucked out, drowsy, feeling high, practically _glazed_, and lighter than he ever remembered, splayed out naked on Deadpool's bed. Well, _almost_ naked.

Wade was right there beside him, grinning like an idiot while he fingered the hem of Peter's mask.

Why was he hiding his face from this man again? He was fairly certain Deadpool could make an accurate school model of his body, and map out every single spot that made him twitch... but he was hiding his eyes? He'd been wearing it around just over his nose for close to the entire day, and Peter couldn't find a good reason to keep it on any longer.

"You wanna take off my mask?" Peter breathed, soft and unsure.

Wade smirked, traced his fingers down Peter's cheek and left his hand casually resting against the boy's neck. He shook his head, "Nah. I'm actually kinda chill about it. More than I thought I would be. I had an apostrophe."

Peter laughed, "I think you mean an epiphany."

"Gesundheit." Deadpool quipped, waving a hand dismissively, "You'd be too pretty. I think you've secretly got one of those faces that just _melts_ chika's loins into butter, you know?" he patted Peter's cheek and pouted his lips, speaking in mock tone, "Like a baby Bieber, and honestly babe, I can't fuck a baby Biebs."

"You asshole." Peter was wrapping his arms around him in a heartbeat, the two of them rolling around in the bed and grinning like madmen.

Wade flipped them first, pushing Peter's back into the mattress and kissing, then opting to nuzzle the hickeys along his collar bone instead. But Spiderman was no weakling, wrapping his legs around Deadpool's torso and pushing hard. Wade now on his back, Peter smirked over him and ran his hands down Deadpool's chest. He traced his fingers along every crevice, burn mark, and scar, sliding down so that his elbows rested on either side of Wade's head before lazily pecking a kiss to his nose.

He just felt so _happy_, he didn't know how to put any other name to the feeling. He felt six years old again. He wanted to invest his_ everything_ into this. Whether that was stupid or just naïve of him was up for debate. It could have been that his brain had just short circuited. Too much sex. Maybe Wade had brainwashed him. All that was certain, was that he wanted this more than anything, lying there in a post-sex glow. So, cautiously, hesitant, and yet certain, he reached for Wade's hands. The confusion on his face when Peter lifted them to his face might haven been novel if didn't have such a strong need to convey this.

He brought his hands up to the rim of the mask, pressing the hem into Wade's fingers. He saw the very moment realization donned on him, and the flash of rejection that followed. Wade smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "Nah. It's fine Petey."

"You don't want to see my face?" It was supposed to be an honest question, maybe with a little bit of a joke behind it so it didn't sound too serious. Only, it came out with a bit of a displeased whine, just barely coaxed out of his throat.

"Babe, don't sound so pathetic. That's not the reason, you know that."

"Then?"

"Can't."

Peter scoffed, incredulous, "Can."

Wade smirked, "_Can't_."

"Damn well _can_."

"Can not."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can!"

"Ca~_an't_."

"Can!"

"Petey, I could do this all day." He curled his arm around Peter's waist as he sat up, "So," he pressed a light kiss to his collarbone, "we can spend the day doing the Rocky, Bullwinkle thing, _Or..._" another kiss just under his jaw, "We can see if we can break this fucking bed."

Peter smirked, trying not to let Deadpool deter him completely, "Promise I won't be able to use my legs?"

"Oh, baby, I swear if you don't have to swing your way across town for the next week I will personally buy dick enlargements."

Smirk gone, "That's... actually kind of disturbing."

"I thought it was romantic."

"Penis enlargement?" Peter huffed, "You've got a warped sense of romance." he smirked, "You don't need it anyway."

Wade's grin stretched from ear to ear, "Changed my mind. _That_ was romantic. You like the size of my massive dick." Wade tuned his voice, suddenly speaking like he was addressing someone who'd given a hefty offering to a god and rambling things like, "You have pleased the little Deadpool with your praise."

"Your ego is massive enough without my praise." Peter chuckled, snaking his arms around Wade's shoulders with the decision to change directions, "So, are we going to keep talking about this or are you going to make good on your promise? Cus' I'm pretty sure my legs still work right now."

"We can go buy a new bed tomorrow." Wade said, pulling Peter closer by his hips, and squeezing one of his butt cheeks, "Or, you know, we could just keep going till we wear a hole in the floor."

Peter couldn't help the sudden burst of laughter that left him, "Oh my god, could you imagine falling through the ceiling of somebody's apartment?" he shifted and sent Deadpool a dubious smirk, "You'd probably just keep going, wouldn't you?"

"You kidding? That's a fucking medal of honor! Sex so badass it takes down castles and wears _holes_ through the _floor_." He pulled back, frowning for a moment, "Now I think we kind of _have_ to break the bed. I Gotta live up to reputation, you know."

Peter grinned, ducked his head into the junction of Deadpool's neck, and bit lightly, "Break the bed, make me lose feeling in my legs, possibly wear a hole in the floor, anything else on our checklist?"

"Taco Bell afterword?" Wade mumbled, returning the favor lazily.

"Definitely."

* * *

Two hours, a new set of sheets, and a bag of Taco Bell later found Peter on his knees, examining the legs of the bed. "There are _actually_ scratch marks on the floor, Wade." he called behind him, to where Deadpool was lounging contently by the TV, "You should be proud."

"It's not the same..." he whined, plucking a burrito out of the bag by his feet, "Hey, you gonna eat your tacos? Or can I have em'?"

Peter limped into the living room, smirking down at Wade with crossed arms, "You don't seem very upset about this."

"Meh." he shrugged, "Like you said, scratch marks on the floor and honestly babe, we_ did_ fuck up your leg. I'd give us an A for effort."

"Asshole." Peter snorted.

"Web-head."

"You injured my everything." Peter grumbled bitterly in reply, carefully descending to the floor before stealing himself something from the bag.

"Worth it."

He swallowed a big mouthful of beans and beef before burning a hole into the back of Wade's head with a steady glare, "_You're_ not the one limping around the place."

"Still worth it."

"I'll say it again; _asshole_."

With a smirk and a light smack from Peter the two settled into comfortable silence, fishing out whatever was left in the bag and watching a bad cop show. Of course, that might be personal opinion. Cops in NY weren't exactly helpful when villains started thundering around. More often than not, they just became a nuisance. "Hey." Wade spoke, nodding towards the screen, "You think I could pull off the suit and tie thing? I mean, I _know_ I could pull it off, obviously, but do you think I'd look hotter than blue steel over there?"

"You don't have the lips for it."

"I don't have the lips?!" Wade gasped, raising a hand to his mouth, "Blasphemy! I'll have you know, these _luscious_ lips happen to be _Kardashian_ worthy, thank you very much. I did that whole, Kylie Jenner thing. You know, with the shot glass? Puckered like a fish for two weeks." he pouted his lips as if to prove a point then spent a few minutes making kissy faces at Peter before going back to poking at them. He seemed resolved to not change them before scowling, "I _rock_ these bad boys, are you kidding?"

"Your lips are fine, Deadpool." Peter smirked, subtly basking in the chance to knock Wade off his hinges.

"Damn straight! Yours could use some work though."

"What?" Peter self consciously brought a hand up to his mouth before scoffing and pulling it back. "They do not."

"Yeah, you're right. What about liposuction?"

"I'm not fat wade."

"Botox?"

"No."

"Breast implants?"

"Wade!"

The mercenary smirked, rolled off the sofa, and tackled Peter onto the floor with a hearty laugh, rambling about how cool it would be if Peter had a dick _and_ boobs.


	13. Chapter 13

**Well... I looked away for a moment and suddenly we're 13 chapters in. Holy cow. Umm I guess I need to make some like, grand speech or something, yeah? I hear those are a thing.**

**Thank you so much for the support and awesome reviews. I started writing this story totally for fun, and it's somehow kind of popular. Tickles me pink to know that. So yeah, don't own the characters, just write the sex. Thanks for enjoying my crazy. I'll also quickly apologize for the break in update times, I'm currently on the hunt for a job. I was preoccupied. **

**Oh, also, for my pal Deadpool, commenting away, I gotta tell you babe, I hold no motivation to write another story after this one, sorry... Life and stuff. Mercenaries don't get it. ****Sorry. Don't shoot me? ****As for going to get Taco Bell... while TB is probably one of _the best_ places to eat, and while your "gun" might be big, my _husband's_ gun is the only one in my holster. ;) **

* * *

After three days of 'making up' with Deadpool, Peter finally had to admit defeat and return to his daily duties as a masked vigilante. After all, the streets weren't going to watch themselves for crime, and Peter was fairly sure they wouldn't wait for him to spend another day or two loafing around Wade's place. Honestly, for three days he'd practically lived in the guy's apartment. Yet Peter couldn't wipe the stupidly content smirk off his own face.

So it was time to calm down, take a break from daily doses of sex and return to catching bad guys. Something at least semi-normal for him. He needed to break the routine Deadpool was planting in his head.

Of course, he was supposed to start getting back on track that morning... you know, showing up to work on Monday was something normal people did. Instead, he'd slipped into Wade's bathroom and called in 'sick'. Wade had promised something kinky if he stayed that day, and honestly, the ideas popping into his head made him completely unaffected by the begrudging voice on the other end of the line.

However, his duties as Spiderman were not something he could blow off by pretending to be sick. So, still a little sore, he settled carefully over the corner of a bank, watching across the street bemusedly as an amateur thief tripped the jewelry store's silent alarm and noisily rifled through the glass cases. He swung rather lazily down to the sidewalk as two passerby's noticed the commotion inside. It was really rather ignorant of the guy. Anyone could see and report him, hell, the odd cop patrol could round the corner any second. Amateur.

Gently, he pushed the door open, careful not to make more noise than the noisy burglar. Once he was almost directly behind him, he crossed his arms, smirked, and cleared his throat, "You know you should really have been checking for alarms before entering."

The man spun around erratically, staring wide eyes through the eyelids of his ski mask.

"Don't worry," Peter murmured, "rookie mistake."

The man reached for his back pocket, but Peter was quicker, shooting a jolt of webbing at him and constricting his wrist to one of the jewelry cases. "Come on, man. Just surrender. Make it a lot easier on yourself."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"What a mouth."

"Get this fucking thing off my hand!"

He sighed, shot another strand in the same direction as the first, tightly securing his arm to the jewelry case, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to curse?"

"Fuck you."

Peter often forgot how little humor other people had. Maybe it was just a I'm-a-bad-guy-and-to-show-you-I'm-serious-I'm-gonna-be-annoying thing. Either way, it wasn't really how he wanted to spend his Monday night, "Real conversationalist, I see. What were you thinking anyway man? I mean, come on. This has got to be one of the worst robberies I've ever seen."

"What's it to you?" he grumbled, tugging against the webbing.

"Friendly conversation. We've got a little time to kill before the police show up. You might as well."

He scoffed, then grumped when he still couldn't get his hand free, "I needed money okay?" he begrudgingly disclosed.

"This was a stupid way to go about getting it."

He scoffed, "Some guy offered me twenty large if I did a job for him tonight. Dunno his name."

"Someone paid you twenty thousand dollars to come cause a fuss?"

He frowned, "No. Twenty G's to steal this stuff." he grunted, nodding towards the bag.

Curiously, Peter made his way over, pushing back the zipper of the black duffel and peering inside. Low-class jewels. Beaded necklaces, a couple pieces of silver, nothing that would turn a profit larger than twenty thousand. This didn't feel right. He lifted his head again, "Who did you say hired you?"

"Just some guy with-" The man's sentence was cut tragically short as a bullet hit him right between the eyes.

"Holy!" Peter took cover where he could, a wild disarray of gunshots streaming into the building. There was more than one shooter. Someone had set this guy up. To lure the cops in? Had Peter interrupted a cop assassination attempt? No... they would have waited for sirens before they started shooting. This was a set up for Spiderman.

His senses were screaming at him, pounding high pitched warnings in his brain. It hurt. He sprang up from behind the counter and shot webbing at a gun, any gun. As long as he could work some kind of advantage he would be fine. He just had to level the playing field.

There wasn't much of a confirmation to let him know if he'd clogged a gun or not, but one of the men was shouting at another. He must have gotten one. Feeling a boost of confidence, he repeated the motion, diving back behind the other counter after aiming for another. He had a better count of the men now. Three still shooting at him, and one more trying to tear his hand free from a webbed gun.

"Son of a bitch!"

Peter smirked. Two down, "Did bad guys just flat out give up on manners?" he shot up again, this time immediately ducking down after craning his wrist, "All you seem to do is curse. What ever happened to the whole Godfather mantra?"

"Come out with your hands up!" One of the men yelled.

"No thanks!"

"Do it!"

Peter smirked to himself, "Mmnah. I'm good here, thanks!"

One of the goons shot him an irritated grumble before shouting back, "Do it or we start shooting civilians in the street!"

Peter flinched. The fun was over.

Civilians were an insistent liability in most situations, and he'd be damned if someone got hurt because he was having a private laugh. Surely most of them had fled by now. The sounds of gunshots would send anyone running away in panic. They had to be bluffing. The sounds of gunfire paused momentarily as they gave him a moment to think on it. Peter shook his head. They already knew what he would say. "You're bluffing." he called from behind his hiding place.

"We can shoot someone to prove we're serious if ya want." Someone replied, then, as if to drive the point, "Dickbrain lyin' on the floor bleedin' out was a civilian too" he chuckled then, "and a stupid one at that. Don't they know you're not supposed to talk?"

"You set him up."

They were still shouting, but the words were more casual now, and Peter thought maybe he could talk his way out of this. They were slowly feeling more confident in themselves. If he was careful, and planned his moves correctly, this could end peacefully, and preferably without any more gunfire. He heard the soft murmuring of voices and wasn't sure if they were talking to him or amongst one another. He was about to strain an ear to try and listen before he was given a reply, "He was bait."

Peter frowned, debating coming out with his hands up right then an there.

If these goons were willing to set up a robbery to draw him out, they wouldn't hesitate to hurt someone else too. "What do you want from me?" He questioned, slowly, and ever so cautiously lifting himself into view.

First his hands, to show he was unarmed, then carefully poking his head out over the top of the counter. There were there five actually. One more than his previous quick-second counting. Six if you wanted to count the man bleeding out on the floor.

"Fuckin' handful." One of the guys grunted before gesturing for Peter to come closer.

He pointed with the barrel of his gun, instructing him onto the ground, hands behind his head, knees on the floor. He silently obeyed, taking a quick moment to consider them. At least fairly skilled, knew how to properly subdue a target... they weren't amateur. "Up." a gravely voice ordered.

He complied, still ever as slow, testing the handcuffs around his wrists with a small, subtle jiggle. Handcuffs? What the hell had he done? "What do you want from me?" he repeated, a bit more stern in his tone as one of the guns was used to push him forward and out of the store.

"Shut up and move Parker."

Oh.

Definitely _not_ amateurs then.

_Inhale._ He allowed himself to stop breathing for a moment as a bag was draped over his head. _Exhale._ Someone mentioned their van. _Inhale._ This was a professional baited kidnapping, and whoever had it out for him, knew his real identity. _Exhale._

Peter suddenly wished he'd just stayed in bed with Deadpool today.


	14. Chapter 14

**Don't own em', just string em' up like puppets. **

**... How do puppets even have sex? Like how would you do that without tangling up all the wires? Has no one else thought of this!? I need experiments. Possibly hilarious YouTube videos. GO FORTH MY CHILDREN!**

**I don't know why this chapter took so dang long to get out... Well... it is mostly plot. I can write 2000 words worth of sex in an hour, but plot? Oh no babe, that shit takes weeks. XD Here! Take it! **

**(major editing as of 2/25/16) You guys gotta get better at letting me know when I screw up or make typos! I'm counting on you perverts!**

* * *

"You're disgusting."

The man, who Peter had started referring to in his head as '_The Executioner'_, (his nickname, not Peter's) was still solid in his bout of disposition. He stayed faintly quiet, brandishing his glass again after someone replenished it. The conversation had died out rather quickly after that, and the end result left Peter being hauled up to his feet.

One of the goons who'd dragged him in earlier jerked him by his arm, muttering to his boss, "Where we keepin' him?"

The Executioner blinked once, slowly, like he was calmly considering. "I'd say the next room, but I rather like the idea of you kneeling by my feet."

Snickering, the guy pushed him forward. When he reached the man, he was flipped around and shoved down to the floor by his shoulders. He grunted, just _dying_ to retaliate. His face must have given it away, because the guy returned his stare with a look of challenge, "Easy." he snapped, "I could knock you out with a single punch, kid."

"You willing to bet on it?"

"Why you little mother-"

"_Reggie_."

The goon, _Reggie_, scowled as he pulled himself away from Peter, snarling under his breath. Peter actually had to make an effort to hide his disappointment. Hand-to-hand combat would've at least given him a chance. His hands probably would have been freed, and at the least, he would've been given free range to move around. If you were to back up close enough to the door, it might be possible to...

"I can see the cogs in your head turning." his captor smirked, irking Peter away from thoughts of escape, "You may as well get comfortable. I think you may be here for a while, no sense ruining the experience for yourself."

"You expect me to enjoy this?"

He huffed, amused, "Of course not. If you were willing to _cooperate_ however, I may choose to offer you a brandy, maybe tie your hands in the front. Little privileges." as if to accent his point, the Executioner tipped his glass in Peter's direction, "It is a pretty good year."

"I don't drink."

"Water then? I do also have coffee."

Peter suddenly felt a little misplaced, letting out an awkward laugh, "I can safely say this is the first time a kidnapper had offered me coffee."

"I'd like to think I rank well above modern criminals. Shame on you for assuming I was anything less."

Peter wanted to laugh. Wasn't this kind of ridiculous? Sitting on his knees in front of a man with a gun and a glass of alcohol, making small talk like there was no tight coils on tension between them. For gods sakes, he'd offered Peter coffee. Of course, it was probably safer of him to just assume whatever he was offered would be drugged, maybe even poisoned. Once they realized Deadpool wouldn't come, they'd probably kill him anyway. That was motive enough. He resolved then and there not to take anything they gave him. The man chuckled at Peter's hesitance, twirling a dismissive hand, "Suit yourself."

"So what now?"

"We wait for your boyfriend."

"He's not-" Peter frowned, training his eyes to the floor and scowling under his breath, "He's not my boyfriend."

"What do you call yourselves then? Lovers? Companions? Fuck buddies perhaps?"

"We're not _called_ anything. Just-" he shook his head, licking his lips and trying to shut himself up. There was no reason he should let himself be baited here. "Just- Nevermind. It doesn't matter." he scoffed, suddenly annoyed with himself, "I'm telling you, he won't come. He'd not that stupid."

"You underestimate that lunatic's stupidity. Then again, you could be right to assume he'd rather save his own hide than a twink he drags around."

"Well that's just _rude_!"

The voice startled the both of them, jerking their attention towards the ceiling, where the air vent grate fell the floor with a noisy clang. Deadpool poked his head out, giggling manically as Reggie and the other goons struggled to compose themselves. "What makes you think I'm not stupid enough to crash a party? I love parties! I'm pretty fucking awesome at making balloon animals too. Though... most of them end up looking like dicks. You said there was booze right?"

"Son of a bitch!" one of the men cursed, raising his gun.

Deadpool was quicker, his arm already out of the vent and shooting before the poor bastard could even get his finger on the trigger. "Didn't your mama ever teach you manners? Jesus. Here I thought we'd bond over party games."

Two of the others were raising nervous arms while he giggled, a guy shooting at him once, but missing as Deadpool pulled himself back into the vent. A spray of bullets launched from out of the grate, taking down three of the men. "You mother fucker!" Reggie cursed, cocking his gun when Wade decided to poke his head out again.

"_Deadpool_."

The inane laughter fell a little short when Wade redirected his sight towards the Executioner, who held Peter by the neck, a gun jammed up against his temple. Of course, Peter couldn't see Wade's expression, but he wondered if he'd only just realized Peter was mask-less. He'd frozen up rather quickly when he saw them.

"Hey Spidey-babe." Wade greeted, dropping from the ceiling and landing on his feet with a _thunk_, "Sorry I was a little late. I swear the invite said seven, not six. I was gonna bring chips and dip and everything."

Peter tried hard not to let his relief show, he really did, but the long sigh came out on it's own accord, "You actually came."

"'Course I did, baby boy. Nice face, by the way."

Peter was having trouble now. He wasn't a crier, and he was good about not letting his emotions get the better of him usually, but he was just so damn _relieved_. Enough to take in a shaky breath and exhale one of those embarrassing half laugh, half cry things. His eyes were starting to sting. He smiled, long and wide, a tiny chuckle escaping his lips, "Glad you like it."

"Yes, that's all very nice." the man dismissed, nodding to his goon, "Reggie, his weapons, if you wouldn't mind."

"_I_ mind." Deadpool huffed, voice going high as he swatted Reggie's hands away, "You men have no respect for a lady's personals!"

"Cooperate, Deadpool." the Executioner ordered, pressing the barrel harder against Peter's temple, forcing his head to tilt to the side, "I'd hate to see this boy's head go to waste. He makes delightful conversation."

"Threaten him again dickhead, and I_ promise_ I'll forget to be gentle when I gut you."

Deadpool's casual reply urged a reaction from Reggie, who not-so-subtly hitched his gun up a few inches higher in warning. "There's no need for that." the man grinned, lifting a hand to make Reggie pause, "We're simply going to have a business discussion. A very _polite_ business discussion."

"I prefer to talk with my fists." Wade retorted.

"I'd mind your manners, Deadpool. There's company present." He manipulated Peter's face again, jerking his chin forward so that he was forced to stare Wade in the eyes before he continued, "Why don't you have a seat?"

"No thanks."

"Sit, Deadpool."

Peter saw his fists clench, and tried to fight his inner turmoil while he watched Wade take a seat in front of them.

He seemed pretty determined to make Wade look like a dog. Sit, stay, Peter wondered if he'd tell him to bark next. Such a twisted fantasy. Wade was a _human being_, and watching him sit back and allow this sick bastard to order him around made Peter wish he hadn't come. He had no doubt the Executioner would kill him anyway once Peter was no longer useful. He'd made his peace with that, but he didn't need to see Wade whipped around before it happened. Deadpool didn't take orders. Deadpool was a crazy merc. with a mouth. Nobody told him what to do.

Peter choked, "Don't do it, Wade."

He was smacked with the gun.

Wade jerked forward, keeping himself still on the edge of his seat, "What the fuck!"

"The adults are talking now. Shut up, Parker."

There was definitely blood in his mouth, but whether or not Deadpool could see it, he couldn't tell. He kept his head bowed anyway. There was no reason to spur a reaction, he just needed to let this play out. Wade needed to kick ass, like he always did. Not sit there and take it for Peter's sake. Wade couldn't afford for Peter to look any more fragile than he already must. He wondered if he should say this to Wade, risk getting pistol whipped again. He needed him to understand that Peter didn't want him to cooperate. "Wade, don't-"

"I said shut up."

His head was jerked backward by his hair, forced to face the man even if he refused to give him the satisfaction of eye contact. If Wade hadn't seen his bloody lips before, he certainly could now. The man scoffed, "I could just as easily knock you out, Parker. It would be simpler for us all. So sit there and stay quiet before I decide to do so."

Wade shifted back into his seat, glaring at the Executioner through his mask, "What the hell do you want?"

"I want you to do a job for me."

"A job?"

"I assure it will be easy. A simple assassination, just like old times."

Deadpool scoffed, "You set up this big fuckin' deal, _kidnapped_ somebody, to ask me to do a fuckin'_ job_?"

"It's a very important target."

Wade huffed, incredulous, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, legs kicked out on either side, "How important? President? A king?"

"Call it a personal vendetta." he replied, waving a hand beside his face with nonchalance, "Just one job, Deadpool. Then I let the kid go."

_No. No, no, no._ Peter chanted in the hollows of his mind, casting a wary glance towards Wade. They'd barely bounced back from the last assignation Wade had made in his name. Spiderman couldn't handle another._ Stop killing for me._

He wanted to try speaking again, but didn't think he'd be conscious if he tried. The Executioner had threatened to knock Peter out, and he probably meant it. Peter wouldn't be able to do anything at all if he was unconscious. In fact, it would probably do more harm than good. Wade might not even do it. He could say no. He could just ignore this. Honestly, Peter wasn't certain he would agree anyway. They weren't- well... Peter wasn't certain what Wade was willing to do for him.

It was obvious there were at least... _some_ feelings between them. How strong they were though, that wasn't clear yet.

"Who am I knocking off?"

_Jesus Wade. _Peter slamming his eyes shut, wincing when the man pulled nudged the back of his neck with the gun, a content smile on his face.

"Yourself."

There was a beat of awkward silence. Peter let his head rise, staring wide eyed over at Wade, then to the man behind him. The Executioner stayed confident, casting a cocky smirk his way while Wade pretended to be knocking water out of his ears, "I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong."

"I want you to kill yourself, Wade."

"Uhhh, excuuuuuuse me?! We must not have met before. Hi!" he waved, cheerily, "I'm Deadpool, you know, merc. with a mouth, kick ass healing factor, CAN'T. FUCKING. DIE?! Seriously, did Spidey get in a good kick to the head before I got here?"

"Just shut up you buffoon." the man tipped forward in his chair, leering at Wade, "I'm well aware of your abilities. I've sent so many men to kill you it's not even funny. I know you know how to do it. There's got to be a fucking secret. I'm sure you've explored different ways of killing yourself before. I'm certain there's a way."

"You're off your rocker, gramps."

The man seemed to be trying to control his own temper, taking a deep breath and smoothing back his hair before replacing the gun at Peter's neck. "We'll separate your limbs, make sure they don't find their way back together. Hell, I can drop one into an acid vat if that's what it takes. You just have to fucking cooperate."

"If you can figure out how to do it, by all means, by my guest. There isn't any trade secret. I've tried it all bucko. Doesn't do shit, just hurts like a bitch."

Peter wanted to vomit. His stomach didn't feel right. They were talking about chopping Wade up into little pieces, just to see if he _could_ actually die. Forget the dog persona, this was even less than that. Even worse, Wade, he'd... tried it all already. Sure, somewhere in the back of Peter's mind he thought he knew that, the reality just never hit him before. How many times had he done it? Was it even because he actually wanted to die or-? No. No Wade was too insane for that. He...

He must have been in a lot of pain.

"If you can't kill the target, the boy dies, Wade."

"I already said I'd do it." he barked, "Jesus."

"Alright." he replied, looking self-satisfied, "Would you like Parker present? Or would you prefer to die alone?"

Peter sprang up, arms still behind his back, ready to abandon any real fight and just bash his head right against this evil bastard's. "You sick, twisted-!"

Peter caught a foot to the face instead, crashing head first into the floor with an elongated groan.


	15. Chapter 15

**OMG thank you for letting me know 14 and 15 were repeat chapters. Sooo, as it turns out, 15 was supposed to be an updated 14 that should have just replaced it. I go back and edit stories all the time when I see something can be better. But I must have it a wrong button or something, and then, because I'm a genius. I deleted 15 instead of 14. SO guess who gets to redu all of that again? Me! So much fun. (=n=)**

**I hope you all love me.**

**Also, Deadpool, your sexiness, you _have_ broken the 4th wall in this story. Twice in fact. :) It might have been subtle, but some people weren't into it since I'm not exactly capitalizing on the boxes in this fic. (LIKE THE NEW DP MOVIE DIDNT! :( I was so upset!) So it's not an every 5 seconds occurrence, but it is there, sorry love. Chimmichanga? *holds out box of Mexican food in offering***

**Don't own em', they're just my OTP.**

**Fair warning, this chapter will be a _bit_ gruesome, with detailed erm... detachment. You were warned.**

* * *

Peter remembers the first time they'd experimented with Wade's healing factor in bed.

Of course, Peter always liked to make a point of Wade knowing that he didn't mind it. Honestly, it had always been a bonus. That frankly a_ddictive_ contrast of skin, the whole no-gag-reflex-makes-for-awesome-blowjobs thing, it had really only ever been a plus. Not to mention, Wade had happily pointed out that he was literally "ribbed for your pleasure" (insert the emoji winking face). That being said, Peter had never really thought of using it in _other ways_ until Wade had brought it up. Apparently he'd screwed around with it himself, but he _really_ wanted to try getting handsy with Peter. And that was literal. Deadpool wanted to try detaching his hand in bed.

Naturally, Peter had started off with a firm, "hell no" attitude. But Wade, being the unstable guy he was, had taken it off just to prove a point. He held it up with the opposite hand, the fingers wiggling, just to prove he could still move it around, even though it wasn't actually attached to him.

And after Peter's mild freak out, Wade calmly pieced himself back together, like nothing had happened.

Although, once it got down to it, Peter was an avid fan of this new... thing. Was there actually a kink name for your boyfriend using a disconnected hand to do dirty things to you? Peter didn't think it was truly possible to be touched so many places at once. 69ing, Wade's tongue in his ass, jerking him off with one hand, while the detached one wandered away to play with his nipples. All that, with the added fullness of Wade in his mouth, was simply impossible. Impossibly _good_. Wade had to stop multiple times just to make sure the fun wouldn't be over before it began, and Peter _still_ ended up cumming twice that night.

Of course, it had been something over stimulating and brilliant then, a new thing to try out. It had been exciting then, but now...

Now they were sawing off different parts of Wade's body, and wrapping them up in separate plastic bags.

Peter _never_ wanted to have Wade in pieces again. He needed to be whole 24/7. A complete person with all his limbs attached at all times. _All times_. God, Peter was so sure he was going to be sick when the bone saw separated the arm from the shoulder, a gnarly pop and gruesome squelch accompanying the tear of small skin strings that hadn't been cut all the way through with the first incision.

They tried acid, limb separation, hell, they even tried _blending_ him.

Literally _blending_ him.

You can imagine a plane propeller turned on it's side, or a giant fan. They stuffed wade in with it, and someone hit the power. Peter did vomit when the Executioner lifted his head, making sure he could see as the skin and suit meshed together, even the bone blending in to one tormented sort of smoothie. He imagined, if Wade wasn't screaming, he could make a joke, maybe something funny about how he might taste, but that just made Peter puke again.

This time however, he aimed for the Executioner's shoes.

Wade came back. Every time. They had scientists, masochists, some guy who drabbled on with a torture scrapbook, an entire team of twisted bastards trying to figure out a way to kill this man. Nothing worked though, the best they could do was make the regrowth process delay for an extra hour or two. But every time they cut him down, tore him apart, _made him bleed_, Wade would just get up, stare blatantly at Peter, and ask what else they had for him.

With each failure, the Executioner grew more and more restless. He'd kicked Peter over once, just to make sure Deadpool was really trying his hardest. A lot of good that did him. Wade got angry, yelling at him, "I'm doing my best you sick fuck! I told you I _can't_. _fucking_. _die_!"

"You'll die, or pretty boy dies. There's a way to do it. I'm certain. We just haven't tried it yet."

"You got another planet hiding up your ass?"

The man frowned, "Excuse me?"

"You know, issue 250. The uh, universes collided? I died that way. If you conjure up another planet out of your ass I think we can do it."

The Executioner scowled, "You're insane."

"Guilty!~"

He looked ready to pounce, a vein popping out on his neck as he glared furiously at Deadpool, cursing him, ordering him to die. One of the scientists cautiously came forward, adjusting his glasses before clearing his throat. "Pardon me sir..."

"_What_?!" he growled.

"It, uh- it occurs to me that we could try to adjust his DNA? Manipulate his RNA possibly? Since his genetic healing powers were, in fact, a product of scientific injection, and extreme circumstances, I believe we could reverse the process. Either demolish the mutated DNA or even mutate it _further_."

"Speak English."

The man huffed and adjusted his glasses again, "Get rid of the healing factor, then kill him. If the process doesn't kill him first."

"And you could do it?"

"It would take time, but we could develop a toxin to inject, I'm sure." the man continued, "If the mutants changed his DNA before, we can change his DNA again. Worst case scenario, he has a negative reaction and suffers internally from it. We can see if organ failure will kill him."

Wade popped up between them, boisterously blasting his opinion, "Well _that_ sure sounds like fun. Do they make Band-Aids for organs? I bet ya twenty bucks I'll need one after that. Oooh! If they don't exist you should invent some doc. You could put cute lil' designs on them and everything. But I get to name it, cus I thought it up."

"My god, do it." The Executioner groaned, "_Anything_ to make him shut up at this point."

* * *

**I apologize for this update taking so long. I had to put a lot of thought into it. I spent quite a bit of time looking up theorists explaining how they believed Wade could be killed. Though, a lot of it was either lazy writing (a magical death or weird potent metal) or some weird, mental or spiritual bullshit in the end. So, I tried to so this the best way I could think of by myself. **

**Don't get me wrong, I did like a few, like the GameTheorists idea, but that was a _really_ long explanation on how his memories wouldn't regenerate if you destroyed them since memories are just waves of electricity... and in the end, it wouldn't really kill him, just get rid of his memories. ****It was a bit of a tedious thing to try writing out, and of course, he wouldn't actually be dead, so I tossed that idea. **

**Hope my weird... science-y thing made enough sense, but if anyone has arguments with it, or a theory themselves, I'd absolutely _love_ to hear it. Seriously, this took for-flipping-ever, and if there are better ideas out there, I'm all ears. Seriously. _Please_. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Welp. I finally conformed. I've been convinced to get an Ao3 account. So this story as well as most of my others can be found there too. If there's ever a problem with one of the sites, odds are I'll have it updated on the other. Thank you so much for loving this story... it's surprised me. I posted the fic on Ao3 and within _literally_ three minutes, there were responses. People told me they'd read it here and were excited to see it over on that site. **

**(T-T)/ Take _that_ English teacher! I _CAN_ write awesome things without a stupid graphic organizer!**

**(some serious revisions made as of 3/26)**

* * *

When you're down, sometimes its better to try and remember the better times.

Peter likes Wade's bed. Not because it's the softest, or smoothest or anything like that. In fact, it groans and wails when someone sits on it, and if you're not careful about getting on then the frame with shift and knock into the wall. It's a little loose, because apparently Deadpool was no match for Ikea. When it shifts, the whole thing topples forward an inch, and the headboard grinds against into the wall's paint and leaves white-chipped streaks. Wade's a lazy man though, and a little bit of a crappy paint-job won't stop him from plopping down carelessly on the mattress at the end of the day. Honestly, it's not a great bed. Hell, it's not even a _good_ bed.

But... it's _Wade's_ bed, and Peter likes the heat. He likes waking up with an arm around his waist, another tucked under the pillow beneath his head. He likes rolling around in it with Wade, loves the startled creaks of the mattress springs as they throw their weight around, wrestling for the advantage. He loves the sheets. They're too thin to really be helpful, so he has to snuggle close to Wade in order to stay warm when it's cold. Which it always is, because Wade hasn't bothered to fix his heater.

He doesn't really fix anything around the apartment. He just shrugs and waves it off usually. A "do it tomorrow" kinda guy. Peter remembers scavenging for the leftover ice cream in the fridge, only to find it melting and droopy when he actually opened the freezer. Wade only ever actually got stuff repaired when Peter's nagging had become more annoying than entertaining.

Or the couch. That thing was about two years late to a retirement home. It was the kind of couch you didn't mind letting the cat claw up because it was already so damaged. The old pattern, the degrading legs, and the big, missing chunk of the top left corner.

There was also the stained floorboards.

And the worn out wallpaper.

The dirty bathroom.

The window that won't open all the way.

The undertone of Mexican food throughout the place.

So Peter sat there, remembering all these things, and yet, if he could trade, he would have himself and Wade back there right now. They'd be arguing over the next time Wade was gonna clean out the shower, bicker over the remote, maybe share a pizza. They could just be sitting outside on the window ledge for all Peter cared. He'd gladly risk a little frostbite if it meant he could just get Wade _out_ of this God forsaken place.

Their experiments had become more desperate, poking and prodding, now there was even talk of actually messing with his DNA. Like they hadn't done enough to him already. They wanted to _mutate_ him, get rid of his healing factor, and then try all the torturous shit they'd been doing to him the last few hours all over again. Hours? How many hours had it been anyway? His stomach pinched and growled at him, so long enough to be hungry. How long had these sick bastards been doing this? How long had they been there? How long had they been cutting him up and ripping him apart? How long had they been killing Wade in front of Peter?

He just wanted to go back to the apartment with Wade.

He just wanted to go home.

_He just wanted it to be over._

"Hold still."

The same rattled little scientist was scolding Wade, tightening his bonds before turning his attention back to a few oddly colored vials. Wade was strapped to glass plate, ankles and wrists buckled in with leather cuffs, making jokes about how kinky it all was. Peter had been grateful that Wade continued to joke throughout everything, he wasn't sure he would have been able to deal otherwise. When he didn't seem down, just kept laughing and kidding around, it made it feel like _maybe_ he could make it out of this alive. Like... it was possible to get him out of here with his character in tact. As if this _wouldn't_ traumatize him.

"I said hold still!" the man snapped again.

Peter was nudged in the back. The Executioner had ordered someone to push kick him in an effort to coarse Wade into cooperating. He stopped fidgeting pretty quickly, spitting a snide remark at the goon that had kicked Peter. Wade laid there dutifully as they poked and prodded at him, injecting serum after serum into his veins. They looked like they were spit balling, just trying whatever they could think up on the spot. It was all just stupid guesses at this point.

A spark of relief washed over him when he considered that they wouldn't be able to do it, that they really _couldn't_ kill Wade. It was probably a testament to his poor sense of self-preservation realizing he was more concerned with Wade's safety than his own. He didn't even remember the threat to his life until the Executioner decided to politely remind him of it, a hand snaking over the back of his neck.

The grip was tight and sweaty, nails lightly digging into the skin. A gross, powerful gesture of dominance. Peter was uncomfortable being touched, and even more so watching Wade's tight expression when he noticed it. "Fuck off."

"I'm sorry," the Executioner smirked jovially, clutching tighter until Peter finally couldn't hide his wince "what was that? I didn't quite hear you."

"I said _fuck off_." Wade grunted, and while Peter could applaud him for his neutral face, he needed to work on the obvious clench of his hands.

He sighed, tired, hoping Wade wouldn't give this man the satisfaction of a reaction, "I'm fine Wade."

"That asshole's got his grimy grubs in your hair. But fuck yeah, you're fine. No problems here. None at all."

"I'm okay Wade, I promise."

It was their captor's turn to interject, a greedy smirk spreading over his cheeks, "Fine _for_ _now_, anyway." he jerked Peter's head towards Wade, "But if your boyfriend doesn't pull his act together, you might not remain that way for too long."

"I told you dickhead. Heal-ing-fac-tor~." he pronounced, dragging out every syllable, "Superheroes don't die that easily."

The man chortled, "You're not a hero, Deadpool. You're a lunatic for hire."

And just like that, the calm façade Peter had managed to uphold snapped.

"He's more of a hero than you know, you _asshole_!" He spat, pulling his head out of reach. Nearly all the eyes in the room had turned his way, drawn in by the commotion or just genuinely surprised. He'd just acclaimed Deadpool a hero. He'd just shouted at their fearless leader. He'd just _cursed_.

It was more attention than he was looking for, but he didn't intend to take it back. Wade was a good man. Not necessarily the poster child for good deeds, sure, but in his own way, he was a hero. He'd saved people before. He'd saved Peter before. He did good things. He didn't deserve to be so put down by a man like The Executioner. A sick, twisted, insane person who didn't have a horrific incident messing up his anatomy to blame. It- It was just-

It was wrong, and Peter wasn't going to take it back.

He stared, dead on, at the Executioner; challenging him to contest what Peter had said. Challenging him to insult Wade again. A stupid little macho moment played itself out, his captor refusing to back down, holding a firm glare even as Peter glowered. What was he doing exactly? Defending Wade's honor? He wasn't a blushing maiden for God's sake.

But the tension was broken pretty quickly by Wade's inane giggling, a little maniac, a lot uncalled for, "Ha!" he snorted, loud and unabashed, "Spiderman said a naughty word!"

"Oh shut up you buffoon."

Peter chose the moment he decided to turn, the short second of inattentiveness to strike. Maybe it was more conniving than a superhero should be, but it was worth it just to watch the blood run from his nose. However, head-butts are _not_ recommended for those looking for an exit strategy. In the pause of time it took him to shake the dizziness out of his eyes, men were already on him, Wade cheering encouragement and bouncing up from his table (after breaking his thumbs and dislocating his ankles, of course).

Turns out, crazy men 'cowboy-calling' a proud "yeehaw!" as you lay a fist in a man's jaw, is really more invigorating than you might think. Peter had _never_, in his life, started a fight with so much enthusiasm before.


	17. Chapter 17

**I can honestly say that the response this story has generated really took me by surprise. My husband too. He thinks I should start writing classes, maybe take a college course on it. It's been truly inspiring, thank you so much. :)**

**That being said, this took WAY too long to update, mostly because I was without internet for ages, then I went on a trip out of state. Now, finally back, I'm procrastinating... because this is the last chapter... I like this story and the little community it's starting to become. I honestly started writing it as a weird "I just want Peter and Wade to fuck like rabbits" and it sort of took off on it's own. Thank you for reading and sticking with this story to the end. :) oxo**

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Spiderman was not a weakling.

Of course, it had taken him years to discover so himself. Accidental superpowers didn't come with an instruction manual.

A punch to the throat, a sweep of the leg, a kick in the teeth, limbs flying this way and that, everybody trying to land a punch. Fights like these never really seemed fair to Peter. Not unfair in the sense it was about fifty against two, but unfair in the sense, Peter and Wade would no doubt win. Those guys didn't stand a chance.

Hired goons normally weren't as well trained as the heroes they were expected to fight. The good ones would last a couple seconds, and the greats, maybe something close to a minute. Either way, they never stayed in the fight for very long, hardly enough to do any actual damage. The only thing they really did was slow the good guy down. Kind of like storm troopers. Poor souls couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.

With a scope.

Five feet away.

With hail-sized bullets.

Peter elbowed a man in the gut when he'd started to draw out his gun, and he'd flipped right around to kick another one out of a lady's palm. Call it a pattern, but Peter had noticed that henchmen and goons never really did get trained properly. He supposed teaching them hand-to-hand was something too troublesome, 'Let's just give em' guns and call it good!'. Though, of course, Peter couldn't really point fingers.

Wade was shooting up the room jovially. Holes played out in a long trail around the space, a string of bodies tagging along, a fleshy mess on the floor.

Sadly, now wasn't the best time for a lesson on morality.

A backflip over the arm of an assailant, taking hold of his neck and spinning around him, the goon catching all the bullets fired at him. Two down, three down, four, then five. They were dropping like flies, and all the while, their fearless leader sat, looking on the scene with intrigue.

The Executioner was calm. Irritatingly so. Peter wanted to punch the smug off of his face. He kicked down another attacker and leapt forward, barrel rolling out of the way when the Executioner shot at him. He dodged another bullet, and then Deadpool was there, holding a man in a headlock and yelling at Peter with a teasing voice, "Hey, hey! I call dibs!"

"Tell me I can at least take the first crack at him?" Peter was sagging back and forth, avoiding fire while the Executioner slowly seemed to get more nervous.

Deadpool giggled, "Whatever you say sweetums! But I _soooo_ get all exclusive rights to the his balls."

"Hah. That's gross."

"Awe, don't get jealous. I just wanna watch the asshole choke on it. Pun intended."

"Shut up, both of you!" The man barked, finally standing, moving, sweating; becoming uneasy.

Deadpool launched himself over somebody's shoulders, kicking another man down to the floor, "Hehe! He sounds scared!"

Peter was closer now, just trying to determine a way around the gun. Maybe he'd just wait until he ran out of bullets. "He should be."

"Don't take another step!" he ordered, aiming right at Spiderman.

Peter wanted to kill him. A superhero should have a problem with that, he's the good guy, he can't just- but Peter wanted him to hurt the way he'd made Wade hurt. He wanted to watch him bleed the way Wade had, to whimper and beg for his life. His throat was dry and tight, head pounding, voice almost scratchy as he dodged a bullet from the Executioner's gun and dashed forward with an angry yell, sweeping a leg underneath him and knocking the Executioner off balance. He yelped, but Peter hardly noticed. He didn't care anymore.

When he was on the ground, grumbling, Peter grabbed the man by the leg, incredible strength launching him across the room and into the wall. He tossed him around, got angry, became _enraged_, listened to the man shout alarming cries as he was thrown around like a pillow.

Deadpool was the one to stop him, reaching for his arm when he went in for another throw. Hit fingers curled around Peter's wrist, momentarily letting his thumb gently sweep in small, calming circles. There was a second's relay of eye contact, Wade's silent voice and stern face speaking volumes. He touched Peter's arm gently, uncharacteristically gently, and then sliced the Executioner right down the middle.

"Jesus!" Peter squeaked, stepping back suddenly, "Wade!"

Wade smirked, "There's the Spidey I know!" Deadpool pulled him into a hug, giggling manically when he pulled back, deciding to lick a tiny stripe up Peter's nose. "You went a little dark there for a second. I thought I was watching your supervillain origin."

Peter huffed, shaking his head slightly, "Thank you Wade. I sort of... lost it for a moment."

"Anytime baby cakes."

"Seriously, Wade, _thank you_." Peter went to peck a quick kiss on his lips, but Deadpool beat him to it, his grip around Peter's waist tightening as he steered them into a long kiss. A wet, passionate, _we-just-survived-this_ kiss. An affirming kiss.

He pulled back with a shit eating grin, watching contently as Peter came back to his senses. "Well, we should probably get out of here... Make a 911 call."

"Sure thing sugar. I'm feeling up for some Taco Bell on the roof tops, you in?"

Peter smirked, "Do I have to pay for my tacos with kisses?"

"You could just kiss me stupid anyway."

"You wish."

"I most definitely, absolutely, certainly, _positively_ do."

He chortled, scooping his mask up off the floor, "You're a lunatic."

"And you love me."

"Yeah." Peter smiled, "Yeah, I do."

Wade's goofy grin tripled in size, sort of alarming Peter. Could his mouth _really_ be that wide? He looked like he could eat Peter up... and not in the fun way. Wade slung an arm around his shoulder as they left, nudging him a couple times with his hip, "I _totally_ called your baby face by the way. Justin Bieber ain't got nuthin' on you."

"Shut up Wade."

He smirked, letting his arm slip down from Peter's shoulders and around his waist, "I love you too."


End file.
